


Biting Dust

by cowboykylux



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Western, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arson, Bandits & Outlaws, Bank Robbery, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Cowboys & Cowgirls, Dom/sub Undertones, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Gun Kink, Gun Violence, Leather Kink, Masturbation, Murderers, Mutual Masturbation, On the Run, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Praise Kink, Protective Kylo Ren, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:02:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25455136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboykylux/pseuds/cowboykylux
Summary: Life ain’t too easy for a woman, ‘specially not a woman on the run like you. With a bounty on your head and gunpowder in your nose, you’ve grown adjusted to a life of solitude away from the hustle and bustle of civilization.That is, until you meet one particular man who’s got a face you’d only ever seen in your dreams – or on wanted posters. And when he offers you a proposition that sounds too good to be true, well. You don’t think your life will ever be the same again.
Relationships: Ben Solo | Kylo Ren/Reader, Kylo Ren/Reader, Kylo Ren/You
Comments: 61
Kudos: 113





	1. Chapter 1

You wonder, sometimes. Wonder how it all turned out like this, how this was the life you now led. You wonder if you could go back and do anything over, if you’d do anything different. Sometimes you don’t do so much wondering, there ain’t the time when you’re on the run with sheriffs at your back; but times like this, with nothing but the uncharted desert sprawling out in front of you, all you could do was wonder.

Something wisps up into your eyes and you cringe as you scrub it out -- sand, stinging and coarse. Nothing but sand, as far as the eye could see. You really fucking hate sand, you think, as the rising sun carries on up into the sky, bringing with it a gentle enough breeze that makes your horse, Agnes, toss her mane in delight. She whinnies softly, and you pet the back of her neck as she does, trudging through the sand after a long night of riding, a long night straight through the desert.

“Almost there,” You reassure her, “Shouldn’t be too much farther now.”

You’d robbed a bank the day before, and damn it all that had proven to be a poor enough decision. Ain’t no money in the bank, nothing at all, nothing but a whole group of cowardly men who were quick to whistle for the dogs that went bitin’ at your ankles.

They paid for that offense against you, had paid with their lives.

If only they had had any money for you to take with you, as you sped off into the night, not daring to stop until you had put enough distance between you and the men with steel.

Now, you don’t even have robbing on your mind. No, you think as Agnes chuffs and complains about the tiredness in her hooves, you’d settle for something as simple as a cool and dry bed, a hot bath, maybe enough time to clean your clothes and have a bite to eat before you’re off again.

A bed, bath, and crust of bread which you were looking forward to in the next town over. Robbing that bank hadn’t been entirely useless after-all, you use the morning sunlight to figure out this chicken-scratch cartography off the map you’d quickly grabbed before dashing out of the blazing bank, flames engulfing everyone and everything inside it as you make your escape.

“If we did this right, we should be there before the sun comes up over the canyons.” You tell her.

She only chuffs again, and you know that she too will be looking forward to a soak in a lake somewhere to wash the blood off her hide.

* * *

If you weren’t so damn tired, you might appreciate the view. The marbling of the earth around you as the sun begins to shine down on the many layers, millions of years in the making, should be breathtaking. The all-encompassing orange and reds, the slight hints of purple, the occasional dappling of yellow speak to a world ancient, as old as time.

It really puts into perspective, this whole thing, your whole life. See, dammit there you go thinkin’ again, wondering again. You clench your jaw and urge Agnes forward a little further, knowing she really can’t take much more before needing a rest. You know, but still you ask her gently to keep on moving, because the sooner you get into town, the sooner the both of you can rest.

“I think…I think that’s it, just up ahead.” You say softly to the old gal, patting her shoulder encouragingly. “You did it, thank you, thank you Aggie.”

Your horse catches wind of the scent of something, something that excites her, and suddenly she’s bolting in the direction of the town, of the piece of civilization that you can just barely see. There’s civilization of _some_ sort, that’s for sure, you can see the little specs of buildings out in the distance. There’s many of them, which is good, really good. It doesn’t look as big as a trading post, but that’s okay – there’s less of a chance that anyone would know who you are.

You hold on tight as Agnes gallops through the canyons, falcons flying overhead, their shadow blurring past on the sandy ground as the wind whips through your hair. You feel elated, feel like you could fly, just like those falcons, flying and soaring straight to salvation in the form of a sheltered room and a drink of water.

Your canteen isn’t empty, but anything left you have will go to Agnes. She can’t tell you when she’s so thirsty she’s half to death, so you don’t ever let her get close. Your last sip of water was two days ago, and you know you can hold out a little longer, will drink the bathwater if you have to, but Agnes does more hard work and so she gets the water.

None of that matters, because Agnes is sprinting, and you’re reminded of why she’s called the fastest Beast in the West. Huge plumes of sand kickback as her hooves dig into the earth, bringing you closer closer closer to the town, at a speed which will no doubt raise suspicion, will no doubt cause unwanted attention.

“Not so fast there girl!” You calm her down, “I know, I’m excited too, but not so fast! They’ll start shootin’ at us!”

That seems to make enough sense to her, because her breakneck pace reduces down to a trot pretty quickly. Your hair is tangled and in your mouth and eyes, your hat nearly flung straight off your head, but all is well. Nothing had fallen out of the knapsacks on the saddle, and the entrance of the town is only a few more hundred feet away.

“Woahh, stop for a minute.” You command her, tugging on the reigns ever so slightly. She looks over her shoulder at you, and you know you’ve spent too much time alone when you can begin to read the annoyed look in her eye. “Just a minute, I need to change.”

Hopping down from Agnes, you take her by the reigns and guide her behind a large wide stone which juts out into the air some couple dozen feet. You’re just past the edge of the canyons now, but you’re thankful for these little hidey spots, because they’re the perfect cover for swapping out clothing.

Clothing was crucial a lot of the time, for you to go through the world unnoticed. It wasn’t all that common for outlaws to have more than one set of something, and you use that to your advantage, stripping down completely naked right there in the middle of the desert. Stuffing the blood-stained and filthy riding clothes into one of the knapsacks, you exchange that for a beautifully clean and well maintained dress and undergarments. It wasn’t fancy like some high society woman might have, but this particular shade of blue cotton looked nice on your skin tone.

It reminds you of your old life, how you would wear something like this damn near every day, not just on special occasions where a disguise was necessary. The cotton was blue and the cut was perfectly flattering. The high neck concealed some unsavory scars, and the puffed sleeves accentuated your frame. There was some frilly detailing around the chest which you thought was a nice touch, but most of all, it buttoned down the front instead of down the back, which was nothing short of a lifesaver, when you had to dress all by yourself.

Over a clean pair of undergarments and petticoat this dress goes, and back up onto Agnes you climb, your transformation complete. You now look nothing like a filthy sharp-shootin’ bank lootin’ outlaw, instead you look like…well, something far more innocent than that.

If you can just keep your head down and stay out of the way for the rest of the day, not bother anyone and leave first thing a morning from now, you’ll be on to bigger and better adventures. Nevermind that your entire life feels like running away from something instead of towards something, nevermind.

“Show time Aggie.” You tell her, nudging her hindquarters with your boots once more.

* * *

The layout of the town is as basic as they come, which you appreciate. Two long strips of main buildings on either side of a dirt road, beautiful wooden structures some two stories high. Some of them have got signs hanging from the porch denotin’ that that’s the general store, that there’s the post office. Some others have their names painted on the window, letting you know that there’s the bathhouse and over yonder there’s the armory.

No bank, you notice.

What you do notice, is the large saloon right at the end of the road, a cul-de-sac of sorts, and you are sure that you hear the heavens open up and shine down on you, angels singing, because there’s a small sign that proudly announces vacancies. The building is huge, three stories tall and framed with the most beautiful wooden support beams with decorative carving. There’s music coming from inside, distant strumming of guitars and harmonicas that seem cheerful and jovial, and you’re glad that this town isn’t immediately hostile.

While you’re busy trying not to weep of relief that you’ll have a relatively safe spot to lay your head, a spot to let Agnes rest, the townsfolk are busy noticing you. They must not get many visitors round these parts, because everyone you pass stops in their tracks and stares.

They don’t exactly look unfriendly, just confused, as if they’d never seen a lone woman ride into town before – and maybe they haven’t. Oh well, you think with the hint of a smile as you tip your hat to a little girl with beautifully thick and long braids down her back, you can only hope to be an inspiration.

There’s men bargaining about something who stop and turn to you, women who drop baskets of bread as you pass. The children which laugh and play round polished bronze statues in the courtyard all halt and whisper amongst themselves, wondering who you are, what you could want, why you’ve come.

You just smile at them, show them all you mean no harm, knowing that this is their home, and you’re only passing through. This seems to appease the adults, but the children with their wide-eyed curiosity aren’t so satisfied. You try not to chuckle as parents have to steer their sons and daughters away from the road to keep them from rushing straight up to you and asking a million questions.

“You rest here, eat up.” You whisper to Agnes when you finally approach the end of the road, hopping off her back as elegantly as possible, leading her to a covered set of posts and a trough of water and feed, tying up her rope so she can’t go wanderin’ anywhere – not that she would.

With a deep breath of courage, knowing that your gun was hidden safely inside a makeshift pocket in the dress, should you need it, you push through the double swinging doors of the saloon.

All at once, the music, the chatter, the jovial laughter and clinking of glasses grinds to a screeching halt, as every patron of the bar stops and turns towards you. You can feel the weight of their stares, but you hold your ground, keep your chin up.

“Sorry to disturb,” You clear your throat there in the doorway, “But is this where a lady might be able to rent a room for the night?”

At the question, the saloon deems you to not be a threat at all, and you can practically taste the way the tension in the air dissolves. A lady looking for a room wasn’t nearly that interesting, not compared to a winning hand of cards, or the dregs of a beer, and you’re glad for it.

“Up the stairs.” The elderly bartender smiles at you real friendly-like as he shines some glasses.

“Thank you kindly.” Your curtsy is rusty, and your entire body aches from the exceptionally long journey, but you ignore the protest of your sore joints as your botos carry you over to the staircase and you ascend up away from the bar.

The second floor lobby of the saloon looks like a proper hotel, which surprises you. There’s a woman at a front desk just beyond the stairs, and she sure seems excited to see you. She’s a portly woman with greying hair plaited nicely in braids that rest along her chest, but she’s got a sharp glimmer to her eye, a glimmer you can appreciate.

“Well hello there! You lookin’ for a room?” She calls over to you, beckons you towards the front desk.

You take your hat off and hold it between your two hands, your own hair twisted and pinned into the messiest bun you’d ever done just so it didn’t look such a wreck from the long ride. You walk over to the desk and are more than grateful when she offers you a cup of crisp cool water.

“Yes ma’am, I am, my name is Mary Elizabeth Sampson,” You lie, “I saw the sign out front and was hopin’ that them vacancies might still be around.”

You try your best to not slam back the water the second the glass is in your hand, instead you bring it up to your lips in a measured sip, savoring the way the clean smooth taste of it travels in rivulets down your throat. You would never take this for granted, water.

Never in a hundred years would you not be eternally thankful for this elixir of life. The old woman at the desk smiles at you with a slight amusement, for she must know how badly you want to chug it. Instead of saying anything about it though, she pulls out a thick book and opens it up onto the desk, flips to the first blank slot.

“You’re in luck – we’re a fair price and good for it. Beds cleaned every day, breakfast lunch and dinner brought right up to you if you’d like from the bar downstairs. We’ve even got a hot bath out back, although that’s an extra price.” She says it so casually that you nearly miss it, but there ain’t no denying the way you choke in your excitement at the luxury of this place.

“How much would one night, meals and a bath cost, altogether?” You wipe water off your chin with the back of your hand, lick it off straight from your dirty knuckles, heart thrumming in your chest.

Were you dreaming? This place sounded like damn near a dream, you can’t help but think. It’s got everything you had asked for, and seemed nice enough to boot. You know your purse is light, you’ve only got five gold dollars to your name since the bank last night proved to be a bust. You’re hoping beyond hope that she doesn’t take your last coin – but you know that you’d give it to her if you had to.

“Altogether you’re lookin’ at about a buck fifty.” She replies, relieving you immensely. She points out the prices of the amenities on a piece of paper she pulls out from behind the desk so you know she’s not just high-ballin’ you, “Fifty cents for the room, buck for food and bath. You won’t find a fairer price around.”

“Do you happen t’have change? I’ve only got solid coins, I’m afraid.” You’re quick to show that that’s acceptable, more than acceptable, as you reach into your other pocket – the one that doesn’t have the gun – for a little drawstring purse.

You pull out two dollars, try not to think about how light your purse becomes from it, and slide it across the desk. The old woman clamps her teeth around the coins to make sure they’re good, and is very pleasantly surprised when she sees that they are.

“I sure do, here’s the key to your room, it’ll just be down the hall and to the left.” She hands you the leftover fifty cents, and an old iron key from a series of hooks up on the wall. You gratefully accept both items, and return the glass to her, now empty of every last drop of water, prompting her to say, “You know, it’s funny. I’ve been runnin’ this hotel for ten years and I ain’t never had two customers in two days. Is there some sorta movement happenin’ ‘cross the West?”

Your eyebrows shoot up at that, at there being another stranger. No wonder they had all stopped and stared so dramatically, you think. The townsfolk might think there must be something going on, to have two visitors so close together. You shrug in earnest though, trying to be as non-descript as possible, not give anything away one way or the other.

“I think there’s always going to be some sorta movement, but anything specific I can’t say for sure.” Your answer is open enough that the woman catches on and chuckles, waves you off and begins to step away from the desk, off back to do who knows what.

“I won’t keep ya, it’s so early you must’ve ridden through the night. I’ll bring breakfast up shortly, you just go on and get comfortable.” She says, and you nod in thanks before --

“Oh! Oh – wait, before you go, my horse, I’ve got a horse. Is there an extra charge to groom and board her for the night? She’s out eatin’ from the trough right now, I don’t want to go skippin’ out on any bills.” You rush back to the desk, and with all your commotion, the old woman can’t help but laugh.

“No Miss Sampson, we’ll take care of her for free. You go on and rest now.” She’s firm and kind, and you’re grateful for it.

In fact, you’re grateful enough that when she’s out of sight beyond the desk, you reach over and open the drawer where she took your payment, and you drop the change she had given you back into the little slot she’d taken it from, a silent thanks for the kindness, and lack of questions.

As you turn away for the final time to head towards your room, you stop cold in your tracks.

For up on the wall is a series of wanted posters, all printed and hung up recently, thick black ink letters boasting grand rewards.

Among them, your heart thuds a little bit quicker in your chest, is your name.

**WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE**

**(Y/N) ‘ANGEL EYES’ (L/N)**

**MURDERESS – ARSONIST – BANK ROBBERY**

**REWARD - $25,000**

The image of your face is crudely drawn, so much so that you barely recognize yourself. They didn’t get a single one of your features right – but who could blame them. You never left any witnesses, never left anyone alive. Still, it’s enough that your name is up there, your real name.

Slightly above your wanted poster, is a poster you’ve seen damn near everywhere. Part of you is proud, proud that you’re movin’ on up the hierarchy of danger, as it were. You recall the days where Sheriffs were advertising only a couple hundred bucks for your head. Now you were a whole quarter of a hundred grand, which surely had to mean something, some sort of stepping on up in the criminal world.

The poster above yours though, now that man was a legend.

**! PROCLAMATION** **OF THE GOVERNOR OF KANSAS !**

**REWARD FOR THE CAPTURE OF EXPRESS AND TRAIN ROBBERS**

**GANG HEADED BY NOTORIOUS MURDERER**

**KYLO REN**

**$100,000**

Kylo Ren, now that was a name. And what a name for such an outlaw! He was well known all across the desert, in every canyon and mountain, every cliffside and town and trading post had his face slapped up on the walls.

Well, not his face.

No one had ever seen his face. Unlike you, he frequently left witnesses, people to tell the story of the chaos that took place that day, people to spur on the legends of his greatness. He was a train robber, one of the meanest around. They said he was a Pony Express boy back in the day, and had dodged death at nearly every turn. Seems as though he turned a page and started dealing out blows rather than taking them, him and his notorious gang who call themselves the Knights of Ren, like somethin’ out of a medieval fairy tale.

The photo on the poster, despite not showing anything other than a black bandana and a blind eye, seems to stare straight through to your soul.

You wonder if you’ll ever get up there, get up to $100,000. It doesn’t do to dwell though, and you know that if that old woman were to come back and see you staring she might get suspicious, so you just move along. 

The room isn’t much more than four walls and a bed, but you don’t care – this is the first time you’ve seen a bed in weeks, possibly in months. Losing track of the days was a bad habit of yours, but everything begins to blend in together when you’re out there, out in the desert. All you have are sun ups when the heat is so stifling as it ripples in waves across the sand, and the sun downs with the venomous critters that’ll kill you dead if they manage to get a hold of you.

Slipping off your shoes, you tuck yourself under the sheets and let your eyes close. It feels good, this. Feels good to not have to worry about imminent danger. You’re here tucked up, Agnes is out enjoying fresh water and food, and though your stomach rumbles, you know that eventually breakfast is on its way.

It mustn’t be any later than ten in the morning, but you’re sure you could sleep the whole day away anyway. It’d do you good, would keep you out of the way. Hopefully the folks around would forget about you entirely, and there’d be no trouble.

The door knocks then, and you suppress a groan as you get back out from the covers, and go to open the door. On the other side is the woman, holding a wooden tray with a bowl of steaming hot porridge, johnnycakes, and a fresh brewed mug of coffee.

“Sorry to disturb, I just wanted to get this to ya while it was still hot.” She says, and you invite her in by opening up the door a little further. “The stable boys are givin’ your horse a good wash right now, she’ll be boarded up in the stable right on the side, should you want to ride her ‘round at some point in the day.”

“Thank you ever so kindly, but I think she and I’ll just catch up on some much needed sleep.” You gratefully accept the tray, put it right on the edge of the bed where it won’t be disturbed. The food smells delicious, better than anything you’d had in weeks, and you can’t wait to dig in.

The old woman regards you for a moment, and while you’re turned away from her, she says ever so softly,

“Is it a man?”

Your hands still just as you go to pick up the coffee, and you sigh.

“Pardon?” You ask, turning to face her slowly, knowing exactly what she means but needing to play dumb enough so that she doesn’t know that you know.

“What you’re runnin’ from. Is it a man?” She asks again.

You sit down on the bed, warming your palms with the mug.

Casting a glance out the window, you see the townspeople milling about in the street, all going along with their daily business. Once upon a time, that was you. It feels like an eon ago, and it might as well be, because you know that you can never return to a life like that, a life like the one you watch from your window. Never again.

She’s still standing there, and you don’t want to be rude, so you swallow your pent-up feelings and simply shrug sheepishly. 

“That obvious, ain’t it?” You put on a façade of shyness, even though it’s not really a lie, not really.

“No.” The old woman huffs out a little laugh, putting her hands on her hips and surprising you by saying, “I’ve just been in your position, and I know kindness don’t come often.”

“The visitor who came through yesterday…” You suddenly grow curious, “What were they like? Are they still here?”

She waves you off though, probably thinking you’re insinuating that a man might be following you now. And that may very well be true, very well could be the case. You burned that bank down to the ground but that doesn’t mean someone could’ve sniffed out your trail and was headed straight for you. The woman shakes her head reassuringly, and your curiosity both grows and lessens.

“Nah Miss he’s long gone. Sheriff had him dealt with when he caught him trying to steal one of the horses out of the sheriff’s own stable, if you can believe it!” She chuckled, making your eyebrows shoot up.

“When you say ‘dealt with’..?” You trail off, wondering what kind of people these were.

“Oh well hanged of course. They don’t hang horse thieves where you’re from?” She asks you as if such an idea were unheard of to her.

That’s very interesting, you think. Very interesting indeed, such a sharp punishment for a crime that didn’t even happen. Most towns would have given the poor guy a trial, but he was only here for less than a day before hanged? Maybe these folks weren’t as friendly as you had assumed.

That’ll teach you to assume, you know the old saying.

“They rarely punish the folks who deserve it, where I’m from.” You say quietly, and the old woman gets the hint.

“I won’t ask where that is, but do you mind me askin’ where you’re headed?” She moves towards the door and you figure why the hell not, tell the truth for once.

“Colorado, much like everyone else it would seem.” You say, say out loud this dream you’ve had for so many months, “Hopin’ to get lucky and strike some gold before it turns into another mess like California.”

She’s pleased with that answer for whatever reason, and she gives you a knowing smile.

“I wish you luck with that, Miss Sampson, I really do.” She nods in the direction of the tray, where the porridge and sticky sweet pancakes are still nice and piping hot. “Enjoy your breakfast, take a bath. I’ll leave lunch outside your door and knock in case you’re asleep.”

With that, she’s gone, and you raise your armpit to see just how badly you smell to encourage – _oh shit,_ you think, your whole face scrunching up after taking a whiff. Awful, is the conclusion, you smell awful. So badly that you almost lose your appetite from it, something that makes you laugh because it catches you so off-guard.

That woman had more patience than you could ever imagine, waiting so long to say anything about it, the stench, and that only makes you laugh harder, for you haven’t had a moment to laugh like this in a long long time.

With food in your belly, and after a long soak and scrub in the boiling hot tub out back, you sleep. You sleep the whole day away, sleep and let your dreams wander to simpler times, kinder times.

Your mind conjures up images of beautiful farmlands, cattle and gently baaing sheep. Numbers and letters dance behind your eyelids, midnight swims in the lake rush over your skin. It’s a good dream for once, a pleasant dream, not like the nightmares that typically plague you. Nothing like the flames which engulf your vision, or the booming laughter which turns to screams or or or --

“Speak of the goddamned devil --!” you gasp awake, your dreams ruined in an instant.

Bolting straight up, you’re disoriented for a moment, reaching for the gun in your pocket before sighing and recognizing this as the little hotel room. There is no danger here, you try and calm yourself down, try and stop the racing of your heart, but the cold sweat that’s shocked you awake grows clammy on your skin and you have to gulp down air.

The room is buttery golden, from the light of the setting sun which streams through the glass pane window. You quickly get out of bed and rush to the window, rush to see if anyone’s come, if they’re calling to run you out of town the way they did that attempted horse thief.

“I can’t stay.” You realize out loud, sighing into your hand as you rub your forehead, willing the spotted visions to blink away. You’d slept just about seven hours, which is probably more than the whole week’s worth of sleep combined, and you’d gotten your money’s worth of food and bath – plus they’d taken care of Agnes for you.

All of this justification runs through your head as you gather up your meager belongings and step into your boots. You twist your hair out of your face and open the front door, ready to place the key on the knob and slip out the back while everyone is at supper.

At your feet is another tray, a bowl of beans and a generous cut of beef along with a tear of bread and dried fruit.

You sigh, looking longingly down at it. Well, you think, better to not let the food spoil. Scarfing down the hot beans and the meat, you wrap the fruits and bread up in a cloth napkin and store it in your pocket. It’ll be a fine addition to the collection of foods you have packed in Agnes’ saddle, and you’re sure the addition will come in handy, not knowing of another town for many miles ahead.

You picked the perfect timing it would seem, because the saloon is empty, all the patrons at home for a home cooked meal with their families, and no one is around to see you head down towards the stable.

Agnes is happy to see you, as always. Her coat is shiny and white, she looks almost pearlescent so clean as this. Guilt pangs in your chest, you wish she could be so clean all the time. When you make it to Colorado and form your new life there, you decide you’re going to get yourself some land and let her spend the rest of her days grazing in peace.

“Ready to go gal?” You smile sadly, petting through her silky smooth mane.

She only whinnies softly, and without much more ado, you lead her out of the stable, and ride off into the sunset, on your way to the next stop en route to the Rockies.

* * *

On the outskirts of town, as the sky blazes beautiful oranges and reds, purples around the edges of the horizon and not a single cloud to be seen, you think about the old woman, you never got her name.

You can’t go back now, can’t go back to thank her more for her hospitality, her understanding. Who knows, you think to yourself, maybe you’ll see her again one day. Maybe you won’t, but life had a funny way of working out, didn’t it?

Up ahead, you see a poor soul hanging from a great big tree, his horse standing underneath it. That must be the thief, you reckon, the one the Sheriff was not too kind to. Goosebumps shiver up your spine, and you do your best to avoid looking at him out of respect. You knew that if you were strung up, you wouldn’t want any ogling eyes, so you simply urge Agnes to go a little faster, hoping that you might simply pass him and continue on.

You wonder if that might’ve been your fate, had you stayed. Perhaps that Sheriff would’ve gotten wind of the bank from the town over, might’ve warned him about any newcomers, might’ve warned him about you. You’ll be far out into the canyons by then, should that happen, you know. You know, and you just do your best to keep your head down, trying to let this man have some semblance of dignity. 

Until that is, that poor soul doesn’t seem so poor at all, because as you grow closer, the moment he catches sight of you, you can hear the booming baritone of a voice shout across the desert,

“Hey! Over here! Hey!”

And you think in shock, that this man ain’t poor, he’s got to be the luckiest sonofabitch you’d ever seen in your life – because somehow, against all odds, _he ain’t dead._


	2. The Hanged Man

The shock of the sight in front of you has you starin’ at this man with your mouth agape, with just one question running through your head – how? How is he still alive?

He’s clearly swingin’, or no, maybe he isn’t, you realize as you ask Agnes to trot over with urgency. This man, the thief, is precariously balanced on the hide of his horse just so, just so that he must be alleviating some of the pressure around his throat where the noose is wrapped tight. You can’t quit starin’, Agnes coming up beside the great black horse who chuffs and whinnies softly at the strange new presence in front of her.

“Good evening ma’am,” The man uses what little purchase he has to spin himself around on the noose to face you, small grunts of his struggle wrenching out of his chest as he tries not to choke himself any more than he already is, “Could you do a fellow a favor and reach into the knapsack on my horse, use the knife that’s in the left pocket, and cut me down?”

It’s absurd, you think as your eyebrows shoot up, the way that he manages to seem so nonchalant, given his predicament. But the moment he manages to turn and face you fully, any amused notions of his calm vanish, replaced only by the weight of the features which you’re now confronted with.

He’s a collection of pieces that don’t make no sense, shouldn’t go together the way they do. His hair is long and dark as it waves and curls, but his ears stick out beyond the locks. His nose juts out strongly, but it looks like it’s been broken once or twice. A pink tongue darts out to lick plush plump lips, framed by a soft looking goatee, sharp cheeks, but a weak chin. Most of all though, are his eyes. They’re somehow both beady and cunning, calculating and warm, or well…his left eye is.

He’s got a scarred over gash that practically splits his face, something between a burn wound and a cut, halfway in the middle. Whatever it was that gave that to him, took his eye with it, or at least tried to. It’s still there, but it’s milky white, whereas the other one glows a liquid chocolate as the light of the setting sun hits it. 

He’s handsome, utterly and completely handsome.

He’s also still hanging by that noose, and you still don’t know how he ain’t dead, so despite all of that, you can’t help but blurt out,

“What the fuck is this?”

The man clearly was not expecting such a question, because he almost loses his footing on the black horse’s hide, and goes sputterin’ for a moment as he tries to right himself.

“Excuse me?” He’s got some sense of humor, you think, because he’s frowning at you, scowlin’, when he steadies himself once more.

“How are you doin’ that?” You clarify, gesturing with one hand to the fact that he’s alive, how he must’ve been hanging here for two whole days, and is still alive.

“Well,” The man sighs, and you can imagine that were his hands not bound behind his back, he might’ve scratched at his chin or his scalp. “I think my old girl Sam here is trying to teach me a lesson. She won’t come close enough to make this easy for me, but I figured if she were really sick and tired of my bullshit, she’d’ve rode off and let me hang. You know how horses get sometimes.”

Who is this person, who is so seemingly confident and sure of himself, and simultaneously must be the most lucky motherfucker to ever live? You can’t tell if you wanted to smack him or kiss him. Maybe both, but that decision can stay safely locked inside your brain. Even after the two minutes that you’ve known this man, something tells you that his ego would go through the roof if you gave him the satisfaction of a kiss.

“Oh do I.” You bite back a raised brow. While his presumptions may be correct, you were taken slightly aback with how freely he was willing to give them.

“Yes ma’am, I can tell by the way your horse is lookin’ up at you. Sam gives me those same looks, well, when she ain’t bein’ so difficult, of course.” He grumbles, and the black horse, Sam, seems to chuff in exasperation.

The sun is setting faster now, and you start to feel anxious. Surely folks would be still eatin’ dinner by now, surely no one would start walkin’ out and about at night, aside from those who take some comfort in the music and beer in the saloon. Surely no one would see you, see you talking to the hanged man, but…but suppose they did.

What would they do then?

What would _you_ do?

You frown, wanting to get this whole interaction over with. You’ve resolved to cut him loose, but first, you’d like the honor at least bein’ introduced to this strange wonder of a man. You’d like to know just whose life you’re saving.

It ain’t often, that you go around saving lives instead of taking them.

“Quit calling me ma’am.” It’s too formal, too proper for the kind of woman that you are, somethin’ about it reminds you of your mother and – you nip that in the bud real fuckin’ quick.

“Yes sir.” The man offers with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes, and you wonder if he ever smiles. He’s certainly got the humor for it, but as far as his face has moved, those lips are held firmly in a scowl, even as his eyes sparkle.

Without getting off of Agnes, you reach into a knapsack of your own and pull out a knife. It’s nothing too fancy, but the blade is sharp and it should do the trick.

“I have a couple questions.” You begin sawing at the thick rope which binds his hands together, carefully twisting him so that you can have a better angle. You don’t want to accidentally cut his flesh, don’t want to do anything other than get some information and be on your way.

“Please, ask away.” The man is sarcastic, and the thought of stabbing him clean through the chest flits across your mind like a smooth stone over a pond. Although, as you brace yourself against his back with one hand to keep yourself steady when you cut through the rope, you’re not surprised at all to find he’s made of nothin’ but hard muscle.

“What’s your name?” The rope gives way and immediately he wastes no time rubbing at the chafed skin around his wrists, cracking the joints that had gone so stiff. 

“I ain’t so sure you’d’ve ever heard of me, but I go by the name of Kylo Ren.” He says quietly, gauging your reaction.

It isn’t one that he expects.

Something inside you lights up like the flickering flare of a candle, and before you know it, you’re reaching for your gun and holding it steady in his direction. Immediately, his newly freed hands go up in a display of surrender, but you don’t dare waver, not one inch. After all you were willin’ to do for him, you’d take it back in a heartbeat – you ain’t got no desire to go helpin’ a lying man.

“Bullshit.” You spit, drawing the word out into two different syllables, scowling at him.

He wasn’t Kylo Ren, he couldn’t be. Kylo Ren was a legend, a myth of epic proportions. They’d be singin’ songs about him and his gang until kingdom come, they’d be tellin’ stories about his escapades and adventures ‘til the cows came home. Kylo Ren was uncatchable, he was elusive, no one had ever met his wrath and walked away -- there was no way that here he was caught in front of you. Just because this man was blind in the same eye didn’t mean nothin’, lots of folks had injuries like that, and it makes you mad to know he’s hidin’ behind someone else’s identity.

“Beg pardon?” He almost sounds offended that you don’t believe him, and that only makes you more angry.

What, did he think you were stupid? Did he think you were so easily swayed by pretty falsehoods? Naw, you might’ve been easy on the eyes but you had a mind sharp as a tack, and he wasn’t going to make a fool out of it.

“There ain’t no way Kylo Ren would get himself strung up and left in a tree to die. So I’m going to ask again, and you’re going to tell me, otherwise I’ll shoot you clean through the gut and then you’ll have wished they hanged you right.” The gun doesn’t move, and instead of growing angry or brash or violent in the way you might expect a man to act while he’s starin’ down a barrel, he flushes a deep red.

“You’re mighty quick with that, I have to admit I’m impressed.” He chews on his lip, eyes crinkling up at the corners while he blushes and mumbles softly, “I like a woman who can handle her steel.”

“I like an honest man.” You counter, cocking the trigger. His reaction to bein’ held at gunpoint was nothin’ like you’d ever seen before, you’d never in your wildest dreams imagined you’d meet someone who thought being threatened like this was a turn-on.

“Kylo Ren’s the most honest answer I can give you.” He shrugs simply. He speaks with a sincerity that you still have a hard time believing, but there ain’t much you can do about it, you’ve done too much already, wasted too much time. 

You’ve wasted so much time, here with this man already.

“If you’re Kylo Ren, then I’m Angel Eyes.” You huff, wondering how he might feel about that, if he’d ever heard of you in return.

You’re countin’ on him thinkin’ that you’re bluffing, countin’ on him to throw his head back and laugh, to underestimate you. He doesn’t, instead of all of that, he only blushes a little harder, looking away from your gun and straight into your soul. Whether he’s heard of you or not, his eyes are wide and hopeful, starin’ at you like you put the stars in the sky.

“Won’t you cut me down, Angel?” Kylo asks, voice velvety and deep. The sun gleams off his teeth in a glint that has you realizing most of the ones on the bottom are made of gold, as the last slips of light make one last hurrah over the canyons.

He’s charming, too charming. Even with the noose around his neck, even still balancing like a moron on the back of his horse, he’s charming. A man like that is bound to be nothing but trouble, you think. You don’t know why, but something deep in your bones tells you that he won’t be leaving you alone so easily, once you cut him free.

If you cut him free.

But the sun is setting faster faster faster, and the last of the orangeredyellow is gone from the sky, leaving only the dusky blues and purples of twilight. There’s no more time for games, and you both know it.

“God dammit.” You sigh in aggravation, eventually giving in and holstering your gun once more.

You nudge Agnes to move a little closer, and she obliges warily. The rope around his neck requires a bit of elbow grease to saw through with your knife, but it only takes a couple of minutes before it too gives way, like the rope around his wrists had.

As soon as the tension around his neck disappears, Kylo loses his balance and falls off his horse with a great big _thud,_ and you roll your eyes. Putting the knife back in your own knapsack, you don’t really pay much attention to whatever the hell he’s doing on the floor, trying to get his footing after two whole days of being stretched out. His muscles are probably on fire, burning from the effort to not succumb to strangulation, but that’s ain’t really your problem.

“Alright Ren, you’re free to go. I suggest you find some salve for that nasty burn you’ve got – hold it right the fuck there.” When you do eventually look up, it’s to see Kylo standing too close.

Far too close.

Your gun is back, and you jab it straight in the hollow of his scarred cheekbone. For having such good reflexes that you do, he caught you completely off-guard by popping up the way he just had. How was he so tall? He didn’t look that tall up in the tree, the man must be over six heads high. Once again, his hands are up over his head in surrender, and you’re confused, jumpy. You don’t like strange men gettin’ too close to you, don’t like it one bit.

“I ain’t gonna hurt you! I swear.” He rushes to say with a shake of his head, “You saved my life, I’m in grateful service to you. Wherever you go I’ll follow, and keep you safe from harm, until the day my debt can be repaid.”

Kylo realizes then, that he must’ve messed up, said the wrong thing. You can see it in his eyes, or at least, the one good eye he’s got, the one that ain’t scarred over and milky white. You can tell he didn’t mean to go causin’ no offence by offering you his protection, not at all.

“I don’t need any help, not from you, or from anyone.” Your tone softens just a little when you regard him, lowering the gun that you’d had held firmly against his cheek. You decide that there’s no use in blowin’ his head off, no point in wastin’ a bullet when you could’a just let him hang.

Kylo seems to know this, and when your gun isn’t digging into his cheekbone any longer, he takes a hesitant step towards you, so close, too close.

“Well then,” Kylo’s voice is equally soft, soft and deep in a way that’s almost unnerving, how it can be so soothing. He kicks up some of the reddened earth below his boots, sticks his hands in his pockets and gives you the most honest not-smile you’ve seen in your life as he blushes, “Looks like we’ll be together for a mighty long time.”

The sun is completely down now, darkness creeping in all around. You need to get away from this place, need to put some distance between yourself and the town, between you and Kylo, so you simply urge Agnes forward, and without another thought, you’re galloping into the great unknown.

* * *

Agnes is fast, even in the dark.

Maybe especially in the dark, you think. She’s always had a penchant for roaming around at night, in fact, it was at night that you had found her. That was seemingly eons ago, and you don’t have the energy to mull about in your head dwelling on the past more than you already do.

In the moment, there, right there in the desert, it is a clear night. Light from the moon is bright and pale, a silvery wash of deep toned blues and a million stars in constellations you have memorized like the back of your hand illuminate the vast expanse of nothingness ahead of you.

Agnes is fast, but Kylo’s horse has no trouble keeping up, and though you’re not entirely surprised just because of the sheer size of the creature, you’re still impressed. Sam can’t quite match Agnes, her small stature making her all the more quicker, more streamlined that the midnight creature. It’s a slight observation you can’t help but make, their colors. Where Sam is pitch black, Aggie’s coat is glossy white and reflects the moon easily so Kylo can keep up.

When was the last time you rode like this with another person? Not away from someone, but with them? Kylo can’t see you grinning, the dark cloaking your smile as your hair whips around your head, but you are. You are, out there in the dark, flying through the canyons under the moonlight, putting that distance that you need between yourself and the town. No one would find you, no one would even know where to look, should they come try.

You don’t trust him, you don’t trust Kylo one bit, but you have to admit that the fact he hasn’t killed you point blank and stolen all your possessions means a lot. You’re not really in the business to go around trustin’ strangers, you’ve spent nearly your whole adult life alone, on the run. Now wasn’t the time to start…but it felt good, to be with another soul.

Eventually, when you’ve had your fun, when Agnes and Sam have stretched their legs enough, you and Kylo slow them down to a trot. You’ve come to the edge of the canyon here, so neither of you move any closer. Leaning over ever so slightly, you can hear the gentle trickle of water, can see the light sparkle of moonlight glittering off the rippling water of what has to be the Colorado River a thousand feet below in a gorge that you’ll have to descend in the morning. The map had named this place Horseshoe Bend, and you’re looking forward to seeing it in the daylight.

Neither of you are anywhere near Colorado yet, you’re actually closer to Utah than anything else, but you know that if you can just stick close to the river, you’ll be going in the right direction. Kylo notices you noticing the river, and eventually he pulls gently on the reins to get Sam to come to a soft stop.

This is a good place for the night, you think, and you swing your legs off Agnes’ back. Kylo mimics your movements, coming over slowly and carefully so that you hear him.

You don’t know it, but he doesn’t want to scare you again like he had by the tree, he doesn’t want to scare you ever again.

You’re too tired to protest when he begins helping you lift the bags off Aggie’s saddle, his arms are far bigger and stronger than yours, and though you want to tell him to fuck off with his chivalry, you’re undeniably grateful for the help.

Kylo seems to notice, and you’re just glad that he doesn’t make a whole to-do about it. He must be exhausted too, you’re sure.

Not exhausted enough to let you simply throw down a bundle of something for a pillow and sleep though, as he lights a match on the sole of his boots and tosses it onto a small pile of dry brush and sticks that he scrounges up quickly. The fire makes you wary, wary that someone might see, but you’re too close to the gorge for it to be a problem. No one would dare come rushing towards you here, lest they’d be risking falling straight over the edge and cracking their skulls on the rocks below. 

Watching as Kylo makes the fire and keeps it steady, you wrap a blanket around your shoulders. Nighttime got chilly out in the desert, and you’re lucky to have such a beautifully made blanket to keep you warm. You had purchased it just earlier this year at a trading post, it to this day it remained your most prized possession.

A woman had had a selection for sale or trade, hand woven wool in the most striking of patterns, and when you saw the black and beige striped one, you had given her all the money in your pocket for it. You wear it with respect, always make sure to keep it clean and mended, folded neatly in your bag, always remembering that human hands had created this, remembering that it is the skill of that woman and her hands which keeps you warm, keeps you alive on the harsher desert nights.

Kylo has no blanket of his own, or if he does, he doesn’t bother to wear it. Instead, he lies down close to the fire and adjusts his arms behind his head so that it can act as a pillow. You wonder how he can be comfortable like that, but you bite your tongue. If he’s doing this in an attempt at manliness, you won’t be so quick to give in to the bait.

You are looking at him though, with enough interest that Kylo feels the need to clear his throat. 

“Where are we headed, then?” He asks quietly as he settles down, shuffles a little closer to the fire.

You meet his gaze, but there’s nothing upsetting about the intensity of his eye contact. In fact, lying on opposite sides of the small fire like this, your faces cast warm by the glow of the soft flames, you feel almost as though you’re in a spell, caught in his eyes.

Where were you headed, where were you headed _really?_ What a loaded question, you think.

He’s lookin’ at you, and you’re lookin’ back at him, and unshed tears prick the back of your eyelids just for a moment because if you think about it too hard, you’ll realize that in the end, you’re headed where all the wanderers, drifters, loners and outlaws head; “Nowhere.”

Kylo gives you the ghost of a smile, and shrugs, reaching forward enough to light a hand-rolled cigarette by the embers of the small campfire.

“I’ve always wanted to go there.” He says softly, and you can’t help but let a small chuckle slip through your lips. Kylo offers the cigarette to you, but you shake your head and decline, never havin’ gotten much into smokin’. He nods in understanding and puffs on it once or twice, blowing blue smoke up into the night sky.

“Are you always like this?” Tightening the blanket around your shoulders a little more, you try and get some sort of idea of who this person was. You’d always been a decent judge of character, well, you had to be, all alone like you were. Get betrayed one too many times, you start seein’ the signs of shifty drifters from a mile away.

But with him, with Kylo, you can’t sniff out anything rotten in him, not yet. Maybe it’ll come out in a day or two, hell, maybe it’ll come out in an hour once you’re fast asleep. If you wake up and he’s still there, if you even wake up at all tomorrow, you’ll be more surprised of that than anything in the world.

“That depends.” Kylo finally replies around the huff and puff of his cigarette, giving you more of those vague half truths that you can already tell are going to drive you over the cliff.

“On what?” You ask, already knowing the answer.

“On whether you like it or not.” He gives you another one of those not-smiles, where he somehow looks at you, straight through you, with all the warmth of an old friend, though he be but a total stranger. You scrub a hand down your face in exasperation; it ain’t hard to see why Sam wanted him to suffer a little bit, back by the tree, you think.

“Let’s say for argument’s sake that I don’t.” You offer, and Kylo lets out a sharp breath of a laugh through his nose.

“Then yes, I’m always like this.” Kylo smokes pleasantly, and you curl in on yourself, and roll onto your back.

There’s a million stars up there, you’re sure. Maybe a hundred million, a million million. You used to tell the stories of the constellations to your students – no, you think. Don’t go down that memory lane, the one fraught with fire and anguish.

Shaking your head slightly, you open up your eyes as wide as they’ll go, your pupils swallowin’ up all the light they can. There’s purple white blue clouds in a thick cluster above the gorge, and you know that to be a wisp of the Milky Way. The view is impressive, and humbling. After all, you are nothin’ but a small spec in the universe, aren’t you?

“Ain’t it wild?” Kylo starts to ask, smokin’ and turning his head up to the galaxy above you both. “To think that a thousand years ago, someone was lying where we lay, was starin’ up at these stars we see? To think that a thousand years from now, someone else will be in our position, wonderin’ about their place in the cosmos.”

“What is that you’re smokin’?” You tease softly, no real bite to your words. His baritone nestles into your chest and you feel the thrum of it in your bones, your eyes wetting, not daring to look at him as the fire snaps and crackles between you.

“Nothin’ but tobacco, honest.” Smoke pours out of his nose, his mouth. You can feel his eyes on you, can feel him lookin’. “Don’t you ever think about it, about your place in the world?”

“No.” That answer comes easily enough.

“How come?” Kylo’s voice is a deep deep deep whisper in the night, and it weighs heavy on your stomach as your hands twist in the blanket.

“I don’t got one.” You can’t believe you’re admitting something like this to him, to this stranger.

Something about being here with him, lying so close to another human being for the first time in years, makes you spill all your secrets. You’d told him your name, you’ve never told someone your name. Granted, he probably thought you were just jokin’, but still, whether he knew it or not, he knew the truth. Kylo hasn’t laughed at you yet, though.

He hasn’t mocked you or pushed you in any way. He’s answered your questions and the ones he asked in return weren’t nothin’ of too much trouble. In fact, out of all the men you coulda picked to be stuck with, he seemed like one that wasn’t too shabby. Had a good sense of humor, at the very least, and was calm under pressure, if his behavior by the tree was anythin’ to go off of. He seemed sane enough, or maybe just insane enough. You weren’t sure.

Whichever one it was, it had to be why he had declared undying loyalty to you so quickly. Maybe that was the kind of person he was, Kylo was. Maybe that was all you needed to know about him.

Maybe he was just as lonely as you.

Maybe he hadn’t slept beside another human being in just as long.

The sky above you moves, creeps and crawls at a snails pace, but moves. The Milky Way turns, and with it so do the stars. Your eyes are tired, every part of you is tired, and you shudder from the sheer exhaustion in your muscles. Those seven hours at the hotel were more sleep than you’d gotten in the whole week prior, and it was as if your body remembered how badly you needed that sleep, once you’d gotten it.

You sigh a little to yourself, not so sure when another opportunity like that would come again. 

“You’re cold.” Kylo speaks up enough so you can hear him even as your eyes slip closed, darkness around your vision lulling you into that in-between state of consciousness and slumber.

“I’m fine, the fire’s enough.” You mumble, your words slurring together as you turn closer towards the fire, let the heat of the flame seep into your body, trapping it under your blanket.

“If you’re comfortable with it, you’re more than welcome to come sleep next to me.” He offers, and if you were awake enough, you’d probably chuckle at how bold he is, how forward. You still had your wits about you, still had your decent judgement, you know nothin’ about this man and you don’t trust him as far as you can throw him.

You don’t know anything about him, nothin’ at all. Not even his name.

Maybe you do know his name. The odds of that are so astronomical though, so outta this world, that…well…you’re inclined to believe them.

“Are you really Kylo Ren? _The_ Kylo Ren?” You have to ask, forcing your eyes open to look at him one last time, before you fall asleep completely and deal with whatever trouble tomorrow might bring you.

“I suppose you’ll just have to wait and see, Angel.” Kylo whispers, giving you one of those sincere not-smiles, and looking right back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I'm sorry about how long this update took. More consistent and regular uploads will be happening from here on out! <33


	3. Horseshoe Bend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Kylo test the waters, and find much more than what you bargained for, in the best of ways.

You wake up with the sun, with the earth. The sky blazes in a pink and purple blanket of clouds, cacti juttin’ up proudly from the ground, a black silhouette against the pale light of mornin’. The birds are your first call, the alarm mother nature herself has set for you, the one which you’ve obeyed every day for as long as you can remember. There’s too many of them, the chirps, all of them in an off-beat harmony that goes on echoin’ over the gorge.

The water is your second alarm, the soft rush of the river as it twists and turns ‘round the bend a thousand feet below. The sound of it alone has you sighin’ with relief, knowin’ you’ve made it to water. Water wasn’t too easy to come by out in the desert, but the chicken scratch on that map had done you good, had led you straight to where you needed to be.

The sound of footsteps approachin’ is your third alarm – and this alarm was one felt deep in your gut. Sittin’ upright real fuckin’ fast and holdin’ the gun steady in the direction of the sound, you blink away the sleep sand from your eyes and level a glare so mean it coulda killed the sonofabitch stranger on the spot.

But then you open your eyes a little further, and you focus on just who the sonofabitch is, and you sigh.

 _Oh right,_ you can’t help but think with a groan. _Kylo Ren._

He looks well rested, if a little scruffy. Scruffy, you think with a scowl, how the hell does he look so sleep mussed and yet still handsome? That wasn’t right, not one damn bit.

The events of the day prior come slammin’ through you all at one, and you toss the gun down lightly as you fall back onto the bundle of sacks that you’ve called your pillow, stretchin’ your limbs way high up over your head. Kylo is chipper, a mornin’ person it would seem, and he’s standin’ over you blockin’ out the sun from your eyes like a gentleman.

“Mornin’ Angel.” He greets you, offerin’ you a hand. “Sleep tight?”

You regard the hand, regard him.

The fact that you woke up at all is a surprisin’ one – a _damn_ surprisin’ one. You’d’ve thought, well, you were almost certain he woulda left you stranded, if he left you alive at all. But there he was, his hand outstretched, and you take it, allowin’ him to help haul you up onto your feet.

“You didn’t kill me.” You say instead of a proper greeting, and Kylo rolls his eyes.

“Well that would go directly against the proclamation I gave to offer my protection, now wouldn’t it?” He replies sarcastically, puffin’ on that same cigarette he had worked on last night.

You try not to think about how good it looks between his crooked teeth.

“Those were just words.” You shrug, avertin’ your gaze and regardin’ the horses. Agnes and Sam seemed to be chumming up real nicely, the both of them grazing side by side on the few desert plants that managed to grow near the gorge. “I didn’t think you’d actually meant ‘em.”

“If there’s one thing you should know ‘bout me, it’s that I say what I mean and I mean what I say.” Kylo is serious in a way that makes you raise a brow, and he continues, “Too many tragedies get born from mis-communicatin’, don’t you think?” 

“I wouldn’t know.” You lie, not feelin’ like divulging anything about yourself to this man, not yet. You don’t know him, don’t trust him, how could you?

Yes he didn’t go killin’ you when he had the chance but what if that meant he was savin’ it up to kill you later? What if --

“Are you hungry?” Kylo interrupts your train of thought before you can spiral down into a paranoid place. It was just strange, so damn strange, the way he regards you so calmly. Even up in the tree he had spoken to you like he’d known you your whole lives.

You were sure you’d never met him, a face like his wasn’t one folks seldom came across, and one even less likely to forget.

Dusting off the beautiful Hopi blanket and folding it neatly, you think the question over. Really, your stomach was still pretty full from the meals you’d enjoyed at the hotel, and you knew that the earlier in the day you started eatin’, the hungrier you’d be later on. It was a tough life, and on your own you’d gone too many days without food at all in your belly, so the thought of givin’ any of it up now didn’t sit too right with you.

“I’ve got some dried fruit and nuts in the knapsack,” You say anyway, because really energy was good and you would need it to deal with him, this man. Kylo nods once and makes to rifle through the knapsack, and you don’t know what comes over you but you offer, “We’ll split it.”

Kylo looks at you with an expression you can’t quite place. He looks caught off-guard by that, by the offer. And maybe he was, food bein’ so scarce out here in the desert the way it was, particularly for a coupl’a outcasts like yourselves. You try not to think about those two dollars you gave up the day before.

You wonder if Kylo’s got any money, what might be in his knapsacks he rides around with.

“I boiled us come coffee.” He blinks, and you blink too – well, you think, there’s one thing he carries on him.

The fire from last night must’a smoldered out while the both of y’all were asleep, because there’s fresh brush smokin’ up into the morning sky when you turn to take in the sight of the tin coffee pot bubblin’ away. As a matter of fact, Kylo moves over there now with the fruit and nuts in his hand, fixes a cup while it’s nice and fresh and so it don’t get scorched. You’ll have to drink from the same cup, you realize, because you don’t have one. The only thing you’ve got are the canteens for water, and you can’t go pourin’ coffee into that.

“How long have you been awake?” You ask, gratefully accepting a big handful of nuts and some dried apricots.

“Before the sun, wanted to get the coffee started, and needed to go lookin’ for some salve, for this here burn.” Kylo tilts his head to the side and exposes the nasty red gash that winds itself ‘round his throat. He grumbles and scowls, “Hurts like a bitch it does.”

You toss back a big swig of the coffee and crunch down on a couple pecans before you pull one of the bags over and begin openin’ up the different pockets and pouches, lookin’ for the jar of ointment you know is there.

“C’mere.” You wave him over when you do find it.

It ain’t a big jar or nothin’ like that, but it’s still good, smells just fine. If anythin’ was gonna soothe that burn it would be this. You had purchased it from a medicine man some months back as a precaution, and though you know you’d have to use the whole thing on him eventually, it beat lettin’ the ointment spoil and wastin’ the money.

Kylo sits close to you, real close. Too close, the way he was yesterday, in your personal space. You’re wary of him, but he sits real still, eyeing the ointment. It’s now that you actually take time to look at what he’s wearin’, as you push his clothes out of the way.

He’s got a long coat somewhere, you remember seein’ it hangin’ around his body up in the tree. He’d been hidin’ a smartly fitted pair of brown corduroy trousers and heeled boots, a white button down with billowing sleeves, and a dark red waistcoat underneath it. There was a gold chain peekin’ out of one of the waistcoat pockets, and you’re pretty sure it’s a watch.

You wonder if he’s got someone’s picture in it.

Somehow, this close to you, he’s enormous. Absolutely the biggest man you’ve ever seen, his hands alone are longer than your face, you can tell just by the way he runs his fingers through his long dark hair.

He sits still, real still, and closes his eyes. Ever so gently, you scoop up a little bit of the salve and hold your breath as it makes contact with his neck. Kylo doesn’t wince, doesn’t do anything as you smear the ointment against his angry skin, and you have to admit, you’re impressed. Even if this were another exaggerated display of toughness, you’re impressed.

You make sure to cover every bit of the rope burn, mostly because you don’t want it to get infected. It’ll likely scar, but Kylo’s got bigger and badder scars to concern himself with, you doubt that this one will bother him much. And if it does, well, too fuckin’ bad, at least he ain’t dead.

“Thank you.” Kylo says softly, his voice deep in the quiet of the morning. He’s so close, too close, as you close the little jar and put it back in your knapsack for when you know you’ll have to reapply it for him. Kylo watches as you do so, bringin’ his cigarette back up to his lips and humming, “You’ve got magic in that bag or somethin’?”

“Not magic, just a lifetime of shit.” You say, and for the first time that you let him see, you smile at him.

Kylo’s still too close, and he doesn’t go movin’ away once the bag is closed and you pluck the cup of coffee from his hands, bring it up to your lips and take a sip of the bitter brown brew.

“I reckon we’re goin’ down to that there river, ain’t we?” Kylo nods in the direction of the bend, and you smack your lips, the coffee coating the roof of your mouth.

“You’d be reckonin’ right. It won’t take long, maybe only an hour on account of havin’ to be real careful the horses don’t slip, and then we can move along the river.” That was the plan anyway.

Yesterday you’d been privy to a nice long soak, and it had done your muscles wonders, but you had a bundle of bloodied clothin’ you needed to get washed and get washed ASAP. You were still in the blue dress, and you knew you’d feel much more comfortable in your ridin’ clothes, except the ridin’ clothes were stained through with dried blood right about this time.

That was going to be a bitch to get out, you think as you sip your coffee, but you try to remain optimistic about it. Really it only mattered if the blue dress stayed nice, that was the only one townsfolk were liable to see.

“Where are we headed, when we follow the river?” Kylo takes the cup of coffee back and pulls a deep swig out of it.

“ _I’m_ going to Colorado.” You make a point of emphasizing, and he only frowns with something like concern.

“Central City or Victor?” He chews on his lip, his good eye a little too bright, a little too interested.

“I’ve heard nice things about Victor. I think there might be a good chance of gold there.” You shrug with one shoulder, feigning interest.

Whatever Kylo might be after, whatever he might want, you don’t want him to know that you want this more, more desperately than anything anyone could ever want.

“So it’s gold that you’re after.” He muses, and you snap your head to glare at him.

“It’s freedom I’m after.” You’re real quick to correct him, not wantin’ you to think that you’re just some greedy person wantin’ to get their hands on every last penny they can. You knew people like that – had known – and you never wanted to be anything like them. It’s just that, “Freedom don’t come cheap, and gold’s the best place to start with something like that.”

Kylo looks down into his coffee for a long while, contemplatin’ what you’ve just said. You wish you could see inside his head, wish you could hear what he was thinkin’. Was he the same? Was he itching for a plot of peace and quiet and calm?

Where had _he_ been headed, when you’d found him?

“I can take you there, to Victor. I’ve been before, so I know the way. Shortcuts through the canyons and everything, I swear.” Kylo pinches out the cigarette and sticks it back in his pocket, clears his throat a little. “I’m good for it, you’ll see. Besides, it’s less conspicuous to go travelin’ in pairs than for a woman to go ridin’ into town alone, ‘specially a rough town like Victor.”

“I can handle myself just fine, thank you.” Unless yesterday, you’re not quite so venomous with the way you respond. In fact, you find yourself in a rather teasin’ playful kinda mood now that the caffeine is perkin’ up your system. “I seem to recall between the two of us, I was the one cuttin’ you down.”

Maybe Kylo’s in a playful mood too, because that almost gets a smile out of him.

“Fair enough. But seeing as you’re stuck with me for the foreseeable future anyway, might as well take advantage of my good sense of direction.” He points out, and you have to ask:

“What’s in it for you?”

Kylo hesitates on that for a little while. He looks over to the rising sun, now well into the sky. It’s no longer purples and pinks, but the pale blue you’ve grown so used to seein’ hanging over your head. Birds fly high above you, their wings spready wide.

You wish you could fly.

“My gang’s waitin’ for me there. We got separated few weeks back, and that’s always been the meet-up spot. I’m hopin’ that, if they’re alive, they’re there and waitin’. I’d like to at the very least get there to find out.” Kylo says finally.

“Those would be the Knights of Ren.” You muse, still not really believing him. You’ll call him Kylo and you won’t kill him for it, but you’re not convinced, not really.

“That they would.” Still he sticks true to his story, and something changes in his voice with the way he talks about him, “They’re the closest thing to family a guy like me could ever get, and if I’m bein’ honest with you Angel, I’d very much like to get home to them.”

You sigh and get up, brush off the sand from the skirt of your dress and offer him a hand.

He looks at it, looks at you, then back at it, and with a hopeful glimmer in his eye, he takes it.

* * *

The journey down the canyon is done in silence, mostly outta concentration. Neither of you want to distract the horses as they make their way down the perilously narrow pathways carved out of the canyon by millions of years of rivers flowin’ through these parts, so you stay quiet.

It’s nice, the quiet, gives you time to appreciate the beauty of it all. You’re surprised Kylo manages to shut up for two seconds, with how chatty he seems to be. You can’t go blamin’ him too bad though you suppose, if he’s been on the run as long as you have, if he’s been _alone_ as long as you have, a fresh face to talk to was probably the most welcome thing Kylo could’ve asked for.

Eventually, you do get to the bottom of the gorge, and Agnes and Sam both make a beeline to the river’s edge. You and Kylo have to yank on the reigns and get them to slow down, they’re too excited and it would be really shit to have all your bags soaked.

An hour or two after breakfast you find yourselves face to face with Horseshoe Bend, the lush vegetation that grows right along the bank. The water is a rich blue, and the land around it is a deep green, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen something this magical, so refreshing after eons of red and orange dirt.

The first plan is to fill the canteens, which you do right away. You fill them all up until there ain’t no air left, and then you fill ‘em up some more. Then, you decide, you have to wash the blood outta your clothes.

Kylo watches you do that right on the bank, doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t ask any questions, and for that you’re grateful. You wouldn’t have the answers to go givin’ him. He leaves you to your own devices as a matter of fact, walks away from where you’re kneeled over the steady stream of water to go tend to Sam.

Something comes over you, and idea, a notion poppin’ into your head.

You begin to strip down to nothin’, not a stitch of clothing on you, and you tiptoe into the river.

It’s a risk, of course.

But it’s also a challenge.

He wants you to trust him. Trustin’ means vulnerability, and you can’t think of nothin’ more vulnerable than this. If he wants you to open yourself up to him, well shit. He’s gonna have to open himself up to you too. So there you are, naked in the river. The water is cold against your skin, the current _whooshing_ between your legs. Every now and again a fish bumps into your shin, and you suck in a small breath of surprise as it passes you to continue its journey down the river.

Your back is to Kylo, givin’ him time to make a decision – join you or not. You haven’t decided yet what you’ll do if he joins you, but you hold your breath and wait.

A few moments and some rustling later, you hear the light splashing of Kylo stepping in too, and your pulse pounds. You’re not quite right next to one another or nothin’, but definitely close enough that he should be able to hear you when you chew your lip, the inside of your cheek, and ask,

“Are you lookin’?”

You don’t know what answer you want him to give.

“No.” Kylo says, says it hesitantly. He doesn’t say it like it’s a complete sentence, like there’s more he wants to tumble out of his mouth, but nothing comes.

“Do you want to?” You whisper, turning to face him.

You smile briefly, because he’s turned away from you too.

Only for a moment though, before he’s glancing over his shoulder and lookin’ at you, really _lookin’_ at you.

Exposed, is how you feel, in a word. Your shoulders are squared and your chin is raised in defiance, your tits out above the water. It’s almost a dare, seeing how long it’ll take him to glance down, to break the staring contest you’ve found yourselves in.

He breaks first, you find with a small thrill, as you watch him look at you, take in the sight of your body. His is…a marvel. Incredible, really. He’s so wide? Impossibly broad, the kind of shoulders you could sit on with no problem. And he was wide all the way down, stomach not tapering down to trim hips – no, this man was sold through and through.

Solid, and covered in scars. He shows them off proudly, the same way you show yourself. It’s a challenge, a dare, a plea. You don’t know what you’re askin’ for, but it’s a plea nonetheless. Hesitantly, he takes a step towards you. He’s askin’ for permission in this silent way, a hand outstretched. You bite the inside of your cheek and take a step towards him.

This dance continues, one step after the other, the both of y’all coming to meet in the middle.

It’s the water, you reckon. The cooling river washing away your sins, your crimes. It took the blood out of your clothes, will it rinse the very same from your hands?

Suddenly, somehow, he’s too close again.

This time, for some reason, you don’t mind.

You tilt your head the barest bit, and whatever you’re askin’ for, he seems to be answerin’, by resting his forehead against your own. He hunches down and curls himself around you to fit, to make up the distance from bein’ so much taller than you, and he lets out a contemplative sigh.

Silently, you stare into each other’s eyes. This close, you focus on the mangled and marred one he’s got, the scar that goes with it. It starts from his browbone and carries all the way down to his shoulder. How did a man go about gettin’ something like that, you wonder. He’s sure to have a story for it, somethin’ like that, somethin’ as big as that always had a story.

“I like the way your leather smells…when you’ve been ridin’ all day.” He says abruptly, doesn’t break his gaze from yours, lookin’ from your left eye to your right with the only one he’s got left.

You blink rapidly, unsure what to do with that information. Unsure what to do with him.

Unsure what to do with _yourself._

“What’s it smell like?” Your ribcage expands when you take a deep breath, a steady breath.

“Like sweat, the earth.” He replies hungrily, his eye darkening with what you know has to be lust, “It smells warm, like it’s still alive. It smells like you.”

“And what do I smell like?” You stare him down, making him sweat even there in the cool of the river. It’s fulfilling, seeing him sweat under your gaze.

“I – I don’t know.” He admits, voice faltering.

“Do you want to find out?” You whisper, eyes wide, terrified.

When was the last time you did this sort of thing with someone? You can’t remember, not as far back as your memory goes – and it goes pretty damn far. You’ve never done this, not with another person, not in broad daylight. And what would you do, if he said no? If he thought you a cheap loose woman now, if he –

“Please.” He whimpers, and oh.

_Oh._

He was the kind of man you’d been dreamin’ about, wasn’t he? The kind who needed a firm hand, who wanted to be put in his place. Made sense, it did, if this was really Kylo Ren, surely no one would dare try out of fear of bein’ shot. Well, he’s not got his pistol on him, and your hands are already smoothin’ up his chest, already draggin’ up to his shoulders, around his neck, fingers weavin’ into the hair at the base of his skull.

Giving and encouraging little nudge, Kylo ducks his head down and shoves it into the crook of your throat, already taking in deep gulpfuls of breaths, smelling you. He must like it, must like the way you smell, because in seconds you can feel his cock filling out hard and thick, pressing against your stomach. It’s huge, and that shouldn’t surprise you given the rest of him, but it still does.

Without so much as a second thought, you let one of your hands wrap around it, and Kylo immediately moans.

“Your cock’s hard for it?” You lick your lips, curious, wanting to see where this takes you, where the two of you will go.

“Yes.” He replies straight away, and something about that trips your brain up. He likes answering your questions, he likes doing what you say, he likes when you’re pleased with his answers. You can tell by the way his cock gets harder harder harder, and you give it a squeeze.

“For me or the leather?” You whisper, mouth run real dry. You shake your head and speak low in his ear, makin’ goosebumps shudder through his flesh with a groan when you say, “You can take care of it, if you’d like. If’n you need to.”

Releasing his dick, Kylo groans at the loss. His hand replaces yours, and he begins a slow stroke. His face is still tucked into your neck, and he’s still breathing hard, breathing you in. You can’t see much because of the way he’s shoved himself against you, you can’t see past the wall of muscle that is his shoulders and back, but you can feel it.

His hand speedin’ up, twistin’ the muscles in his arm twitching and spasming as he grunts softly, groans. Your ego swells at the thought that all of this is because of you – before your mind catches up and scolds you for the thought. You were probably just a body to him, to Kylo. Just another pair of tits, a naked woman for him to feast his eyes on.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, voice wobbly with how he’s workin’ at his dick, jerkin’ himself off.

“No.” You shake your head, your mood souring just the tiniest bit. Him wanting to kiss you helps soothe your thoughts, so you keep your tone light, “But you can taste me. Come on cowboy, taste me.”

It was the right thing to do, to say, because the moment your words leave your lips, Kylo’s tongue is pressin’ against your pulse. He moans outright, his hips bucking up into his fist, shoulders curlin’ in on themselves so they can press him closer to you. Your arm curls around his waist, friction against your nipples as he shudders and shakes against you, laves his tongue and licking up the sweat that’s started to collect.

Your pussy throbs, so turned on by him, too turned on – but you won’t let him watch you do that, not today. You’ve won this battle, this test, this challenge for trust, he will win another day. You’ll find some secret time to touch yourself, to slide your fingers between the folds of your cunt and rub at your clit and come around your fingers like you spend so many nights doing; although this time, you’re sure you’ll be doin’ it to the memory of him,

“Angel, oh – ughn, that’s good.” He moans, voice gravelly and deep, the back of his throat clickin’ with want. Your name, your _name_ sounds divine comin’ outta his mouth, and you want to hate how much you love it, how it makes the pit of your stomach flutter.

Ain’t nobody ever said your name that way before, not like this.

“I’ve got you.” You soothe him much like you used to soothe the childr—no, you shake your head, not the time, not the place. Kylo’s whining and crying, you can feel the wetness against your neck as he licks your throat, sucks on it, worries it between his teeth as he tastes you.

He comes before he can give any warning, aside from the way his body tenses up all of a sudden.

“Mmm, ah, ah,” He shudders as he spills over his hand, his fingers blockin’ it so it don’t go arcin’ up onto you. You appreciate that, the consideration, even though you wouldn’t have minded one bit. You’re in the river after all, and the river washes everything away. He winces and sighs and groans out a little, “Fuck.”

“Hm?” You don’t step away from him yet, you don’t go nowhere. You stay close, right there, too close.

“Probably shouldn’t’ve done that in the water we’re supposed to drink.” Kylo grumbles, slightly slurring his words.

Something about that makes you want to laugh, and you only rub his shoulder. He looks up at you with that big brown eye, the other one milky white, the reflection of the universe, everything and nothing inside of it all the same.

“I’ve already filled the canteens, but the current will take it.” You say like it’s no problem, because it ain’t no problem, not really. You don’t know what to do next.

What comes next, in times like these? You don’t have the know-how, not really, you don’t know what to say. So you simply grab a bar of soap that’s been resting on a rock that justs outta the river, and wade deeper into the water, tossin’ over your shoulder, “Next time aim somewhere else.”

* * *

Later, much later, when your clothes have dried and you’ve changed into clean outfits, the both of y’all walk a great long distance against the river’s bank. Sam and Agnes must be thrilled, you think, to be out of the immediate blaze of the sun, the cliffs of the gorge sheltering y’all as you keep close to the river.

Kylo doesn’t say much, but he does walk beside you and not in front of you, and he’s earned a shred more respect from you for that.

“What were you doin’, stealing the sheriff’s horse?” You ask, the question havin’ been on your mind all day.

For the first time, he doesn’t react well to your questions, stops straight in his tracks with a murderous scowl, and for a second, you think he really could be Kylo Ren.

“I didn’t go stealin’ no fuckin’ horse!” He fumes, hands wavin’ all wild like as he talks, as he explains, “Sam had gotten herself all interested in the town and wandered off in the middle of the night. I had to walk eight miles followin’ her fuckin’ prints in the sand only to find her integrated into the town. When I tried to explain that she was mine, they didn’t believe me and strung me up.”

There’s a lot of questions there that you could ask, but the one that blurts out before you have a chance at a real thought it,

“You tracked her prints for _eight miles?_ ”

You stop walking too, impressed. You hate to admit that you’re impressed. You were so used to runnin’, so used to avoid bein’ caught that you never really learned how to chase.

“It’s easy when there ain’t no wind.” Kylo doesn’t move, regards you carefully as he explains, “Nothin’ to blow ‘em away.”

“What about when there _is_ wind?” You demand, not sure why you’re suddenly so interested. Maybe you’re jealous, is that what this is? Jealousy? Maybe he’ll teach you, you think, maybe he’ll show you.

You think about your wanted posters, how yours is only 25,000 and his is 100,000. You wonder what else he might be inclined to show you.

“I’m real good at that sort of thing, my uncle taught me. Tracking, trapping, hunting, herding, you know.” Kylo says, “When it comes time for dinner tonight, I’ll show you.”

* * *

He hunts a cottontail, for dinner.

You’ve never been able to catch a cottontail, you think, as it roasts slowly on a spicket over the fire that you and Kylo built once you’ve settled in for the night. You’re a long way away from Horseshoe Bend now, but you haven’t left the closeness behind. Further along the river you and Kylo have set up camp for the evening, and this time, you don’t worry too much about him guttin’ you in your sleep.

You still worry about it o’course, but. Not _too_ much.

“Shit.” You sigh as your teeth rip into the meat when he hands you your portion, and Kylo’s chest puffs with pride.

“At the rate we’re goin’, we’ll be headin’ into a small town tomorrow.” He replies quietly, biting into the rabbit he serves himself, “Smaller than the last one, by a lot. I think they got maybe three public buildin’s, the rest all houses and farm. We’ll need a cover story, because there’s gonna be questions.”

“You wanna be my brother or my cousin?” You hum, and Kylo looks at you funny.

“I’m too old to be your brother.” Kylo’s quick to respond and he says that too harshly, a sour subject that you didn’t know. Well how were you supposed to know, you think, trying not to get angry with him for snapping at you.

“How old are you?” You wonder, because really, you know so little about him, you know so little about anyone in the world, you realize.

“Too old to be your brother.” Kylo whispers, and you nod in resignation. There was enough sharing today, you think, enough testing the waters as it were.

“Cousin it is then.” You finish the last few bites of the small rabbit and begin to settle down atop your pillow made from the knapsacks and satchels, fishing out your favorite blanket and tugging it around your arms, “We’ll figure the rest out in the morning, I’m tired.”

It’s quiet, for a while.

Nothing but the sound of the river, and the fire that separates you and Kylo, a wall between you. You listen as he rustles and shifts around on the hard ground, no pillow and no blanket again. He puts his hat over his face as a cover against the light from the flames, you watch discreetly from the corner of your eye.

“It’ll be cold again tonight.” Kylo whispers.

_Come sleep next to me._

“Goodnight, Ren.” You reply.

_I can’t. Not yet._

_Not yet._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <333


	4. Old Friends

There’s a distinct energy in the air, gettin’ on up in the morning. Still surprised he ain’t shoot you dead yet, you give Kylo nothing more than a nod of acknowledgment, before goin’ about your business, wadin’ ankle-deep into the water. The water, crystalline and deep, light sparkling off the meandering currents like diamonds, you’re reminded of the way Kylo looked, when he was lookin’ at you.

Shaking your head, you sigh. Whatever had happened yesterday had happened, and it was in the past. Had you dreamed about it? About him? Had your visions been plagued with the look on his face as he came across your stomach? As he nearly sobbed for you, lickin’ at your pulse like some wild thing?

Of course.

Of course, but as much as you wanted to ride on that high of victory, that first test, that first challenge of trust, you knew that his turn would be a’comin’ real soon. You tip your face up to the sky, let the crisp blue of Arizona shine down on your closed eyes, seepin’ up the warmth.

You splash the sleep out of your face, and if Kylo’s watchin’ you real careful like, if somethin’s on his mind, he’s got the smarts to keep it to himself.

It’s silent, for a good part of the ride. Y’all had skipped breakfast, forgoin’ the previous day’s precedent of boiled coffee and a cigarette, instead wanting to keep moving. Always on the move, you were. It wasn’t always that way, but well, that’d been the way for so damn long now, that the time before feels like a dream. Feels like someone else’s memories playin’ in your head.

If only that was the case, you think dryly.

Kylo’s contemplative on his horse, for a real long while. You wonder what he might be thinkin’ about, if he’s thinkin’ about you. You had tried wakin’ up before him today, but it was to no avail. Did the man ever sleep? Surely he must’ve, he was only human after all. You catch his eye awkwardly, the both of y’all looking at each other and then looking away, embarrassed at bein’ caught.

It would seem as though that mutual embarrassment was Kylo’s sign to say something finally, breaking whatever tense mood this had become.

“So Cousin,” Kylo’s voice shocks you for some reason, almost like you had forgotten how deep it was, almost like you’d forgotten that another person could speak so clearly, so confidently to you. “What’s your name?”

He’s referring to the cover story, of course. You remember the way he so sharply denied answering for his age – or maybe was it bein’ a brother that he objected to? Either way, the venom that had stung still lingers in the back of your mind, so you find it best not to press the subject, and answer with the moniker you’ve come to use;

“Mary Elizabeth Sampson.” The words just sound right, rollin’ off the tongue. It was a normal name, nothin’ so outlandish like Angel Eyes. No, Miss Mary Elizabeth Sampson was a proper name, could be found in just about any school house – you immediately cut that train of thought off, instead deflecting, “What’s yours?”

“Benjamin Whitlocke.” Kylo tips his hat, and gives you a real cheeky smile, the kind that shows off his dimples and them crooked teeth as he winks, “But you can call me Benji.”

Sonofabitch is charming, you’ll give him that.

The ease at which Kylo spills the name from his lips relieves you. He was just like you, wasn’t he? On the run and undercover in more ways than one, always another name, another identity in his back pocket. Not that anyone would believe him if he went around introducin’ himself as Kylo Ren – _that_ man was a legend.

 _This_ man is…well.

He’s charming.

You commit the name to memory, not that anyone is likely to ask. Folks tended to not ask about things like that, things like the who the when where why how, usually only the what. Still, it’s good to know, good to make sure y’all are on the same page, so you don’t go gettin’ yourselves shot on accident.

“Alright Benji, where’re we from?” You keep your face turned towards the horizon, towards the little town that you’ll be passin’ through. It’s coming up, just out there, just around the canyons. “And where’re goin’?”

“Genoa, Nevada. Right near the Carson River Valley, just shy of Reno.” Kylo’s quick with this one too, and you accept it as an acceptable answer. You had no problem adopting his story, somethin’ about it made you feel more at ease. You could trust yourself to not fuck it up – but trustin’ someone else? Not likely. Especially when Kylo gives you a glance with his good eye and asks, “And well, best to tell the truth ain’t it? Colorado?”

You had told that kind woman back at the inn that you’d be headin’ to Colorado, it didn’t seem worth it to lie once you’ve already told the truth. The truth is easy, don’t got nothin’ to hide if you’re tellin’ the truth.

“Sure is.” You eventually respond. When you ask the next question, you ain’t askin’ for any other reason than your own edification, “What’s the name of this lil’ town you’re sayin’ we’re comin’ up on?”

Kylo shrugs at that, and you shoot him a dirty glare. Immediately he puts his hands up to prevent you from throwin’ a fit about not knowin’ where the hell he’s taking you.

“Well I ain’t so sure what they call themselves on the map, but everyone I ever spoke to only knows it as Ragrock.” He explains, and you sigh, not likin’ that answer one bit. 

“Ain’t never heard of Ragrock, are you _sure_ it’ll be there?” You don’t recall such a name bein’ written on that map you’d taken, as a matter of fact you don’t recall a town bein’ out here this way anyway.

 _Don’t jump to conclusions,_ you think, as your finger itches for the trigger of your six-shooter that you’ve got right on your hip. _Don’t jump, he could be telling the truth, he hasn’t done you wrong yet._

“I’m sure. It’s mighty small but it’s got what we need.” Kylo speaks confidently, making you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Oh yeah? And what exactly is it that we need?”

“Well now I don’t know about you, but I sure would like to stock up on some essential supplies,” Kylo licks across his teeth, breath still sour from morning. “Namely bullets. Some food and a good drink too while we’re at it, but mostly bullets.”

“How much shootin’ have you been doin’ to be fresh out?” You frown, and he rolls his eyes. For a second there, you think he’s about to laugh, but the most you get is a sharp huff out of his nose.

“Angel I’m never fresh out, believe me.” Patting his hip, you hear the telltale jangle of rounds secured to his belt. “I just don’t like gettin’ low, that’s all. And besides, I have a feelin’ we’re gonna need ‘em. We’ll keep a low profile and all, but Ragrock has a habit of bein’ a bitch sometimes.”

“Yesterday you said there were only three public buildings.” You point out, how much of a bitch could a small town like that be?

“I sure did.” He misses the point, “Bar, drug store, and jail.”

“Damn.” The word is out of your mouth before you even think it, and you immediately kick yourself.

Kylo does smile then, gives you a big knowing smile, and something about it soothes you just as much as it unnerves you. You had been half-jokin’ when you told him your name was Angel Eyes, and you had hoped he’d be inclined to accept it as a joke. No one had ever seen you, your face was never done right on the wanted posters, to him you had hoped you were just another woman out in the west.

But when he smiles at you like that, it makes you think he knows.

“Closest bank’s not gonna be until we cross over the border into Utah.” Kylo says real quiet, and you give yourself away by snappin’ your teeth shut, shootin’ him the dirtiest look you can muster.

“What do I care about banks for?” You’re too defensive, and you know that, but dammit you’re defensive anyway – especially because you _are_ Angel Eyes and what if he’s a bounty hunter of some kind? What if he poses as Kylo Ren to get close to outlaws just like you and rake in the big bucks? What if -- ?

“Didn’t say that you did,” Kylo shrugs again, “Was just makin’ conversation is all. Anyway, we won’t be needin’ to worry about banks for a little while. I’ve got enough money on me.”

You have half a mind to halt Agnes right then and there, surprise taking the place of any paranoia.

“You do?” Frowning, you watch as he rifles through a little purse that he pulls out of a small pocket in his waistcoat. 

“Yep.” He shows you, lets you peer inside at the many bills folded neatly together, “Just about a hundred dollars between it all.”

You do stop Agnes then, halting her reins sharply in a way that makes her whinny in protest. Kylo stops Sam too, already confused about what he did wrong, about why you might be angry with him. That only makes you a little angrier.

“Where the fuck did you get that kind of money?” You demand, wondering why the hell he hadn’t said something before, why he had so little on his person if he had the money to afford better.

“Does it matter?” Kylo shrugs and you sigh with an exasperated roll of your eyes.

“Yeah it sure as shit matters! We can’t go ridin’ into a small town with that much money lookin’ like we do. They’ll suspect us straight off.” You groan.

You’re in your riding clothes once again, but you know that even when you change into your blue dress, neither of you will look rich enough to be carrying around one-hundred dollars. That was a very special class of person, a class of person neither of y’all happen to be. Anyone who saw would immediately peg y’all as thieves.

“Well it ain’t like I’m gonna walk in and flash some bills in everyone’s face.” Kylo mutters, expression souring, “Maybe I’m a gambler and got lucky over a deck of cards, they don’t need to know where it came from.”

The thought fills you with panic, with dread. 

“Are you?” You’re askin’ before you even know that you’re doing it, voice gone hoarse from the memory of a long time ago, the memory of a poker table endin’ badly, the memory of a card game lost, fire and screaming and --

“No.” Kylo answers with enough passion and angry heat that you think maybe he’s got some bad memories too. You and Kylo stare real hard at one another, and eventually he puts the purse back in his little pocket and says real soft, “My daddy was, and that’s enough for me to never want to bet so much as a dime.”

As much as you hate admittin’ it – and though you’d never say it to his face – you find yourself likin’ Kylo a little bit more now. He nudges Sam with the heel of his boot, thinking that now that this face off has met its end, you can continue down towards the town.

* * *

Squinting against the rippling heat waves of the summer sun, you notice that the town’s buildings are starting to appear as small pricks on the horizon, way out in the distance, shimmering like a mirage. Now’s as good a time as any, you figure, because if you get any closer they might send scouts to come investigate, and you’re not in any mood for an investigation.

“Hold on.” You say, and Kylo stops immediately. Sam huffs out a little chuff of annoyance, but Kylo ignores her.

“What’s the matter?” He’s got a sharp edge to his voice, his good eye immediately scanning around and around for danger.

“Ain’t nothin’ the matter, I just have to change, that’s all.” You explain, and it’s almost funny the way that Kylo’s shoulders drop, tension saggin’ away from them.

You hop off of Agnes altogether. Looking around, you realize very quickly that there’s nothing to change behind, nothing to give you cover. But then you wonder if it really matters, Kylo’s already seen you naked after all. You wonder if he’ll want to look again, if he’ll get his eyeful of you the way he had yesterday, but you find that as you start undressing, he’s got his eye trained just off to your right, respectful.

“Into that blue dress of yours, right?” He clears his throat, busying himself by fiddling with some tobacco and a piece of paper, rollin’ up a cigarette.

“ _One of us_ has to look civilized.” You tease him, “Make yourself useful and keep a lookout.”

He does something then, that makes you wonder just what the hell he’s playin’ at. Kylo guides Sam to come stand beside you, effectively sandwiching you between your horse and his, creatin’ a barrier from the outside world, a shield of sorts. You never would have expected such gentlemanly behavior from him – from anyone.

But here he is, protectin’ you from the hungry gaze of the sun and the sand, as you step out of the calf-tall boots you wear, unsnap the buckles of your suspenders which hold up the worn linen trousers that once were a rich black, but now have sun-bleached to an off-blue grey. You unbutton your shirt, long sleeves slippin’ off your arms and exposing your skin to the harsh rays of the sun for a few moments, and all the while, Kylo doesn’t look.

You’re wearin’ nothin’ but your corset and smock, and he doesn’t look.

“You know, when we cross into Utah, we’ll have to pass through Ruby City.” Kylo says instead of starin’ at your body, instead of tryin’ to get a glimpse. “That there’s a proper city, has a train station runnin’ through it and everything. It’s got all sorts of stores and things like that. Maybe you could let me buy you a new dress, let that blue one retire for a while.”

Switching your corset from the sturdy riding support-piece that you wear for something more fashionably structured, still he doesn’t look. The smock sits nicely off your shoulders, your decolletage and cleavage on full display as you snap the hooks and eyes of the corset into place, steppin’ into the petticoat that you’d just cleaned by the river.

“No.” You say easily, echoin’ a sentiment you’d give him before, “I don’t need you doin’ anything for me, I told you already – ”

You struggle for a minute, pullin’ the dress over your head. When it’s freshly washed like this sometimes it was a little stiff from dryin’ in the sun, and you have to wriggle it around to get it to sit properly.

“Well what if it ain’t a need but a want to do it?” Kylo’s hands startle you for a minute, as he leans down and helps set the seam of the yoke on your shoulders properly, “A gift from me to you.”

You tense up immediately, and he drops his hands, not wanting to offend or upset you.

“Ain’t never been a man who gives a gift without expectin’ somethin’ in return.” You reply quietly, a resolute shake of your head.

He’s quiet about that for a while, watching you now that you’re all covered up, watching as you do up all those buttons on your front, as you step into boots that are a little more lady-like, even though you despise that term.

He watches as you trade your wide brimmed hat for a bonnet, hair tucked neatly away instead of the way you usually let it be exposed and free.

“I’m not like them,” Kylo appraises you, fixes your bonnet a little so it ain’t crooked as you tie the ribbon underneath your chin, “Whoever it is that done hurt you so bad.”

“I don’t know that.” You point out, swingin’ your leg up over Agnes’ sadle and rollin’ the stiff joints of your shoulders. Your tone is light, not wantin’ to get into too much heavy right before headin’ into the town, “For all I know, you could be worse.”

“I’ll prove it to you, you’ll see.” Kylo smiles, and you almost want to accept that as a challenge, almost want to dare him, just to see if he would.

* * *

Kylo wasn’t lying when he said the town was small. There it was, the single street town, in all its glory. Looking to the left, you can see the way the canyons split and wind alongside the river, houses and homesteads and farms dottin’ the red red earth. Looking to the right, you can see more houses still, but farther apart, nothin’ but cacti and tumbleweeds between them.

Along this single road are actually five buildings; the drugstore and a jail to the left, the saloon and a big fancy house to the right, and a church right down at the end of the road. Well, it wasn’t so much a road as it was a dirt path, but still. And because of how little there was, it was all spread out, takin’ up as much space as possible.

No one was around, but if all the noise from the saloon were anythin’ to go by, you’d reckon that the entire town of Ragrock had gathered there.

Given the placement of the sun up in the powder blue sky, it was fixin’ to be about lunchtime. And considerin’ neither you nor Kylo had had anythin’ to eat today, you’re just glad that the ovens would hopefully be workin’, and that you might use some of Kylo’s money for somethin’ hot and fresh.

“I’m going to pick up some things from the pharmacy, why don’t you go get us a table?” Kylo’s thinkin’ the same thing, and you shoot him a wary eyebrow.

“Do you think they’ll let me in?” You knew that in most places, women weren’t actually allowed inside saloons unless they were whores or ‘Shady Ladies’. And while you were certainly a Shady Lady, you didn’t need nobody knowin’ that.

“In a town this small, impropriety extends to the womenfolk, no need for worry.” Kylo waves your concern off, and you wonder whether to believe him or not.

“What’ll you have to drink?” You decide on takin’ him at face value, it hadn’t steered you wrong yet. Kylo lets out a little laugh at the question, and you roll your eyes, hatin’ how damn cocky he gets when he gets his way.

“Doubt there’ll be much of a choice, but if rum’s on the menu, you sign me up for a glass of that.” He licks across his teeth again, and you part ways for the time being.

There’s only one place to hitch the horses, and that’s damn near the other end of the town by the church. Must not be Sunday, you figure, since the building is empty. Keeping track of the days of the week was somethin’ that had been gettin’ harder and harder, and usually it was only times like these when you’re in a town, that you’re able to figure out when the hell on the calendar you are.

Bein’ that it ain’t Sunday, your earlier suspicion is correct – everyone in the town is in this saloon. From the town elders to the children, boys and girls alike, everyone’s gathered together in the shade of the big wooden building. It’s only one story you notice, which means that there ain’t an inn or a place to sleep above it, which could pose somethin’ of a problem for you. You resolve to get chummy with the boss and see if he can’t suggest somewhere that you and Kylo might be able to rest your heads later on in the evening when the time comes.

The bar is nearly full up with customers laughin’ and talkin’ to one another, card game tables are set up on the floor, some folks winnin’ and some folks losing. There’s a three-person band up against the wall, a pianist a harmonica player, and a fiddle player, and the music instantly lets you know that this is an Irish town.

 _No rum then, sorry Kylo,_ you think with a bit of apprehension as you step foot through the swingin’ café doors. Unlike the saloon in the other town, no one pays you a lick of attention here. It ain’t until you make your way up to the bar as a matter of fact, that you start gettin’ eyes.

“Well hell-llo there honey.” A large portly man with a great big gold tooth right in the middle of his face gives you the once-over, “Are you lost?”

Your eye twitches ever so slightly at the petname, but you put on a cool face and bat your lashes, knowin’ just how to play this particular game.

“No sir, my cousin and I are just passin’ through.” You explain, lookin’ for someone who works there, “Might there be a spot open for us to have a drink and crust of bread?”

“For a face like that, you bet your ass there is.” The bartender, a man with slim sharp features stands up from wherever he was crouchin’ behind the bar counter. He wipes the counter with a fresh cloth before slingin’ the thing over his shoulder.

The bartender puts a plate of food in front of you, some buttered bread and nuts that you happily crunch down.

“Watch your fuckin’ mouth, that there’s a lady.” The portly man with the gold tooth points a finger in the bartender’s direction, makin’ you chuckle.

“Naw it’s alright, I ain’t so proper that a couple cuss words will do me any offense.” You wink at him, watchin’ as he gets off his stool at the bar, and offers it to you.

You sit on the stool in his place, and he leans up against his elbow on the counter. You try not to wrinkle your nose at how bad his breath smells, keepin’ up that pleasant smile.

“I’m Amos, why don’t you let me buy you a drink?” He asks, and your eyes flick to the doors with hesitation.

“That’d be mighty kind of you, thank you Amos.” Knowing to never ever refuse a drink or else risk gettin’ branded as disrespectful, you chew on your lip, “Although, I should probably wait for my cousin. He’s just over yonder at the drug store, but he’ll be right back when he’s done.”

“Well when he comes on in I’ll buy him a drink too!” Amos lets out a hearty laugh, slaps a couple coins down on the counter.

“I speak for the both of us when I say we appreciate the generosity immensely.” You smile, wondering what the fuck is taking Kylo so long.

“What’ll you have?” The bartender accepts the coins, pulls a big glass out from behind the counter and gestures to the three different barrel taps he’s got on hand.

“I ain’t picky.” You shake your head, not wantin’ to be fussy.

You’d had a taste of just about every kind of alcohol there was, from Pabst and Budweiser to home-distilled ‘shine. There wasn’t nothin’ you couldn’t swallow, even if you did prefer water above all else. The bartender fills up the glass with the frothy gold of some home brew, and knowin’ the norms, knowin’ how it’d be a sign of weakness to sip your drink, you throw back a big gulp, wipin’ a droplet or two away from your chin with the back of your hand, much to the cheers and applause around you.

“Damn! A woman who can hold her liquor deserves it, don’t you think, ‘Tidge?” Amos slaps the bar top, regardin’ you with another hearty chuckle.

“I sure do.” The bartender, ‘Tidge, gives you a freckled smile.

You look over your shoulder once again, and still no sign of Kylo.

Well, you think to yourself, if he’s going to take his sweet fuckin’ time, then you might as well get comfortable. Besides, couldn’t hurt to get on the town’s sweet side, in case you ever need to come moseying back through this way.

“I like that name, is it short for somethin’?” You turn your attention back towards the bartender, admiring his features.

He’s handsome, in a gangly sort of way. Those cheekbones could cut a man from how sharp they were, everything about him angular and severe, right down to his eyes, a swirling blue-green-grey that you couldn’t quite place. And then of course his hair, a bright orange with more yellow than red in it, you’re sure you’d be able to spot this man from just about anywhere in the town – maybe that’s why he was bartender.

“Armitage, but ain’t nobody calls me that unless I’m in trouble for somethin’, ya see.” He winks at you, his accent lilting and even as he wipes wipes wipes the counter and nonchalantly asks, “What might your name be?”

“Mary, and my cousin’s Benjamin.” You lie straight through your smiling teeth, and he smiles back.

He’s about to open his mouth to say something else, when another employee, a server of some kind, sticks his head out from a side door behind the counter and whistles for Armitage’s attention.

“Hey boss!” The server calls, “There’s a man out here askin’ about some cattle, says he wants to talk to you.”

At that, Armitage throws the towel down and groans, checkin’ the pocket-watch he pulls out of his vest.

“Aw shit,” He mutters to himself, callin’ back, “Tell Joey I’ll be right out! Pardon me Miss Mary, but business is business.”

You only nod, liftin’ your glass of half-drunk whiskey in response, and Armitage leaves.

The swingin’ doors of the saloon give way once again, and this time, finally, Kylo arrives. You can see him through the reflection of the tarnished silver mirror that sits up on the wall behind the bar, likely for reasons like this; so even the regulars at the bar can get a looksee at whoever happens to be comin’ and goin’.

You take another swig of your drink, watch through the silver as Kylo is stopped by a gentleman by the door.

“Hold on there partner, check your guns in.” The gentleman says, a hand on Kylo’s massive chest, stoppin’ him from walking in any further. “Thems the rules.”

You try to hide your grin at the fact that you had been so underestimated to not be stopped, but then again, Kylo was really askin’ for trouble just by walkin’ in, what with his naturally intimidating demeanor. You wonder if he’s going to fight the old man on that, but shockingly, he hands his pistol over without any hesitation.

“Whatever you say, sir.” Kylo gives a nod, before searching for you with a tentative, “Mary?”

“Over here Benji.” At the sound of your ‘name’, you turn and throw a hand up for Kylo to see.

“So this is the cousin, eh?” Amos slurps his beer loudly, as if sizing Kylo up and down, trying to figure out if that’s a fight he would win.

“Yep.” You reply, tryin’ your damn best to not regard Kylo with anything more than platonic interest as he weaves his way through the saloon.

Heat burns in your cheeks from how he doesn’t take his eyes off of you, even in that menacing scowl he’s got plastered to his face, he doesn’t once look away. To him, you could have been the only woman in the entire saloon, and for all he knew, you might as well be. Even without his gun, Kylo still looks like the most deadly man in the entire bar, just from sheer stature and attitude.

It’s a good look, not that you’d tell him that.

You don’t get a chance to tell him anything, because as soon as he comes and sidles up next to you, he slips an arm around your waist, protective – _possessive_ , sizin’ Amos up and down in reutnr, a challenge of his own. 

“We were startin’ to think you didn’t exist.” Amos grunts into his glass.

“Here I am, in the flesh.” Kylo’s voice is deep, deadly. It sends a shiver up your spine, you can feel the crackle of tension radiating off of him, so to mitigate any potential disaster, you push a full glass of whiskey into his hand, makin’ Kylo smile softly at you and asking, “How much for the drinks…?”

“This kind gentleman here took care of them for us.” You nod carefully towards Amos, who is lookin’ a lot less friendly right about now, now that he’s got his eye on the way Kylo pulls your body a little closer to his.

“Oh, well in that case, your next one’s on me.” Kylo pulls out a coin, balances it on his thumb and flicks it up into the air.

Amos catches it with ease, and grunts out something that you think might be a thank you.

“Benji, is it?” Another man’s voice sounds from just behind the two of you, and both you and Kylo freeze up for a split second, before quickly recovering and tryin’ your best to act natural.

“Depends on who’s askin’.” Kylo responds, turnin’ to see who might be inquiring about him.

There’s a table just off to the side, four chairs, only three of them filled. A gruff lookin’ man with ruddy red hair and a freckled face cracks his knuckles, gestures to the empty chair across from him. You swallow, lookin’ at the pile of cards that have been left abandoned on the table.

“We’ve just lost a player, if you’d care to join.” The man says.

You knew enough to know that when a man offers somethin’ like that, it’s more of a dare. And there ain’t no faster way to get into a fight, than by shyin’ away from a dare. Kylo knows this too, and despite the conversation y’all had earlier about him not bein’ a gambler, he knows he can’t not play at least one hand.

“Alright, but just once.” He says as much, using your presence as an excuse, “Wouldn’t do to go leavin’ my cousin all by her lonesome.”

Giving him a very cautious look, you will him not to do anything stupid. Armitage will be back soon and hopefully he’ll bring some protein with him, and you can enjoy a proper lunch and inquire about a possible place to stay for the night. It would be bad, for anything to happen now.

Kylo walks over to the table, takes the seat.

“What’s this?” He points to the little pile of cards, and you get the uneasy feeling that something bad is going to happen anyway, despite your silent pleas.

“That’s the hand he left behind.” The gruff man smokes on a fat cigar, blows smoke out of his nose, sucks across blackened teeth.

Curiously, Kylo lifts the cards just enough to see somethin’ that he don’t like, and he immediately puts them back down on the table.

“I’d rather not take ‘em, if that’s alright. Deal me a new hand.” Kylo requests, and that, it would seem, was the wrong move to make.

You hold your breath, eyes boring into the back of Kylo’s skull, hand itchin’ for the gun you’ve got hidden on your person, the gun that you’d be willin’ to throw Kylo at a moment’s notice, should he need it.

“It ain’t alright.” The gruff man shakes his head, his eyes grey like steel as he regards the pile, “You seen ‘em, you play ‘em.”

“That don’t seem fair.” Kylo points out, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I don’t give a shit about fair.” The man is unmoving, unwavering, not once breaking eye contact with him as he repeats, “You seen ‘em, you play ‘em.”

“And if’n I don’t?” Kylo asks.

The clinking sound of a holster buckle is what captures everyone’s attention, every single person in the saloon.

Amos, the card table, all the women and children, hell even that three-man band stop playin’, and all turn to look at him, at Kylo, who is now standin’ on the other side of the table, starin’ down the barrel of a gun.

The gruff man stands too, holds the gun level in one hand, holds the cigar in his other.

You itch to throw your gun to Kylo, itch to shoot the man dead yourself, but you don’t move a muscle.

Nobody in the entire saloon moves a single muscle.

“Now I don’t want this to get ugly, particularly not in front of my sweet cousin right over there, so I’m gonna give you a chance.” Kylo has the nerve to say, as he puts his hands up in good faith. He speaks lowly, quietly, so low that the saloon goes silent to hear him. “I’ll give you three seconds to go on over to that there desk and deposit your gun with the clerk at the door, which you shoulda done upon entering as is part of the rules of this here establishment.”

In response, the gruff man only pulls back the trigger, a mockin’ tone to his voice when he echoes Kylo’s earlier words of, “And if’n I don’t?”

You’re just about to lunge in and help him, when all of a sudden, Kylo lifts his leg and slams his boot down on the table, and before you can even shout to ask what the fuck he’s doing, you realize that the long wooden plank wasn’t secured down enough to be stable, and by kicking down on his end, the other end of the plank flies straight up, knockin’ the man’s hand upward, the barrel of the gun pointed right at his chin, the jolt of movement firin’ the trigger, bullet shootin’ straight up through the man’s head.

The crowd is stunned, speechless, watching in shock as the plank levels out on the table again, as Kylo kicks it down down down again, three more bullets flyin’ up through the man’s skull, blood spattering spraying onto the faces of the people in the general vicinity, screams and gasps at the hot hiss of red landin’ on their clothes.

Everyone is frozen, watches as the man’s body finally gives way to death, and thuds and thunks down to the floor.

The top of this man’s head is completely blown out, and Kylo doesn’t even so much as blink an eye, even now that he’s got blood on his own clothes.

“Y’all saw how I warned him?” Kylo barks out to the crowd, and they recoil more from this than they did from the shooting.

“We saw.” They reply nearly in unison.

“Anybody got anything they want to say about it?” Kylo dares, but when no response comes, “Good. Now where’s the fuckin’ bartender when you need him?”

Almost as if on cue, Armitage comes back through the side door, clapping away dirt from his palms.

All eyes shift to him, and Armitage has a look of confusion on his face for one second, one split second, before it morphs through devastation, to rage.

“Brian!” He calls out with the sort of anguish that makes you think Kylo picked the wrong gambler to kill.

“Oh shit.” You mutter under your breath, especially as Armitage jumps over the bar and rushes to the fallen man’s side.

“Which one of you sons of bitches killed my brother??” Armitage screams, so red in the face that you’re afraid he’s going to burst.

It’s then, that Armitage whirls around and gets an eyeful of Kylo – the kind of eyeful that means he knows that ain’t no Benjamin.

“Oh _shit._ ” You hiss, hand slowly, carefully, creepin’ towards your gun.

“You!” Armitage seethes, leveling a bloodied finger in Kylo’s direction as he races back to the bar to grab a rifle, checks the chamber to make sure she’s fully loaded, and immediately fires a shot that blast through the wood of the table, sending the crowd shouting and screaming, racing out of the saloon to avoid bein’ struck. “I thought I told you to never step foot into this goddamn place again!”

Kylo makes a mad dash for you then, grabs you by the arm and yanks you back back back as Armitage reloads his double barrel.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me you knew him?” You hiss, smacking at him, wanting to punch his fucking teeth out, wondering why he led you into the belly of a hornet’s nest.

The blast of bullets shatters the window above you, and you both duck your heads so as to not get struck by the falling glass.

“No time to explain, on my count, you make a run for the door and get the horses.” Kylo mutters, entirely too calm and collected, making you want to punch him even harder.

“Here take my gun – ” You offer him, but as another explosion sounds off a little too close to you this time, Kylo unveils two more guns of his own.

“Don’t need it,” Kylo grins, and for the first time, you see a sparkle in that blind eye of his. He scoffs, “What, you didn’t think I’d hand them all over, did you?”

You just widen your eyes at him, incredulous. 

“Three, two -- run!” Kylo shouts, popping up over the makeshift barrier he’s yanked you behind, and immediately starts shooting, giving you the cover you need to make a bolt for it.

The band strikes up again, piano and fiddle and harmonica filling the emptiness of silence, punctuated by the sounds of struggle as a great big fights breaks out among the drunks and gamblers that Kylo has so offended.

It feels like a battleground, the way you dodge the bullets that zip past you. If you had made any friends in the time sittin’ at that bar, you’ve lost ‘em now, that much is clear. Amos has no reservation aimin’ straight for your heart, but your quick fingers pull your trigger before he can even manage, his dead body stumbling and tumbling like a bowling ball, knockin’ down the pins of his friends as they try to pin you with bullets of their own.

Run run running, you try to shove your way through the panic of the crowd who keeps scramblin’ like chickens with their heads cut off, screaming and hollerin’ from the way that bullets keep hittin’ and springin’ off metal and blasting into wood, holes riddlin’ the walls, lettin’ streams of sunlight in.

You shoot and shoot, punching and kicking your way through the crowd, knowing that behind you, Kylo can’t be too far.

You can tell because you can hear his grunting shouts, his adrenaline filled calls of rage as he too blasts bullets into the bodies of men, overturning barrels and tables, crashes and explosions going off behind you.

On the single street, you can see some of the townsfolk racing to the jail, and that sends a spike of terror down your back.

The jail meant one thing, and one thing only – the Sheriff.

Panic simmers and bubbles up through you, and you keep running, running towards the church where your horses have been passively entertaining themselves with a trough of water and a bucket of feed.

“Aggie! Sam!” You whistle for their attention, and at once, they turn their big heads to look at you.

Agnes braces herself for you to hoist yourself up onto her saddle, and you frantically undo the tie of their reins around the posts that they’ve been good enough to not wander away from. Holding Sam’s reins in your hands, you kick your heels into Agnes’ side, and great big plumes of dust and dirt kick up under the horses’ hooves as the great beasts immediately break into fast fast fast gallop.

Racing closer closer closer to the saloon, you can still see them fighting and shooting at one another on the inside.

“Come on, come on!” You’re screaming at Kylo from down the road, demanding that he hear you, that he get outside already, because you can’t slow these horses down once they’ve gotten like this, and you can’t turn back once you’ve passed the saloon, not with the commotion from behind, not with the way the Sheriff is now shootin’ at you, at your horses.

“God dammit get out here!” You scream again, lookin’ behind you, takin’ aim and shootin’ the Sheriff clean at the wrist, blowin’ his hand off, the gun explodin’ off with it, bullet ricocheting off one of the hangin’ signs, bouncin’ back and hittin’ the Sheriff in the chest.

You’re almost at the saloon, almost there, and Kylo still ain’t out front, heartbeat pounding pounding pounding in your chest as you approach the doors closer and closer, as you can hear the sound of gunfire and broken glass from inside – but then!

Then there he is!

You see him running through the saloon towards the front doors, and somehow, impossibly somehow, as you pass the doors, you throw Sam’s reins, and Kylo catches them, his long legs running alongside Sam’s breakneck pace, jumping up onto her without her slowing down one bit.

“Yes!!” You let out a triumphant shout of adrenaline, before whipping Agnes’s reins and urging her ever faster.

You and Kylo grin at one another, victors in this chance game with death, cheatin’ your lives once again, as you ride ride ride out into the desert, not lookin’ back to see if anyone follows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy friends! I hope you enjoyed this update, thank you once again for all your patience! I hope you're doing well, if you'd like, you can find me over on tumblr at @babbushka :)


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